Never Bet Against Race
by royalmagician
Summary: Abigail Davis is a good friend of Sarah and Medda's and whose only worries are about having enough money for food, but when she bets against Racetrack for his recent Poker winnings, her worries have just doubled ten-fold in a very Spotty way.
1. Sew It Off

**_Never Bet Against Race_**

**Abigail Davis is a good friend Sarah and Medda's and who only worries about having enough money for food, but when she bets against Racetrack for his recent Poker winnings, her worries have just doubled ten-fold in a very Spotty way.**

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**Chapter One-** Sew It Off

There's an old saying in the Dee and Darby's clothing factory-or sweatshop-and that is just to 'sew it off.' Your finger get sliced off by your sewing machine? Sew it off. Your hand pierced through by your unnaturally long needle? Sew it off. You faint from starvation and fatigue? Sew it off. And our supervisor, Mrs. Grimpleton would often preach this saying whenever someone came to her in tears with a pool of blood on their hand, finger, or arm. (Once there was even a shoulder.)

"Sew if off, girls, sew it off," Mrs. Grimpleton shouted above the din of the sewing machines before disappearing into her private office with fogged glass and the faded words 'Virginia Grimpleton' on the door, which is a popular focus of interest amongst us girls, since it looks like its been there for a long time which causes one to wonder how long, exactly, our supervisor has been at this job.

"Zew it off, girlz, Zew it off," mimicked my friend, Madelyn-or Mimi-in a horribly high falsetto voice that sounded strange with her French accent. Charlotte, or Charlie, the nine-year-old petite brown haired girl with the prettiest gray eyes who Mimi and I had adopted-so to speak-giggled at the French girl's joke while I rolled my eyes.

Noticing me and all my eye rolling, Mimi shot me a grin and said, "Come on, Mizz Abigail, don't be zuch a zore zport. Juzt think that we're out of here at five inztead of eight."

"Yes, thank god for the newsies," I replied grumpily while ignoring Mimi's usage of 'Miss' even though she only uses it when I'm being unreasonable.

"Abigail," said Charlie in confusion, "What don't you like the newsies?"

"Zhe waz dumped by her firzt boyfriend who waz a newsie quite rudely," Mimi summarized from the younger girl. "And zince the brown eyed newzie haz been giving her a lotz of interezt lately…" she trailed off, allowing the younger girl to come to her own conclusions.

"So she finds them all a total waste?" asked Charlie in a slow tone, like she was trying to wrap her mind around this concept while threading her machine.

"I am so over that!" I spluttered in shock while giving Mimi a death glare.

"Oh zure you are, Abigail, which meanz zat your refuzel to buy a newzpaper and glare at every you zee newziez iz abzolutely normal," Mimi laughed as she began to feed the hem of a dress under her machine's needle.

I let out a puff of air and ignored the French girl as I work at nipping off the ends of my own sewing while avoiding the pumping needle, but-quite unaware to my current mood-Charlie asked, "But what about the other newsie? Why does he matter?"

"Didn't you figure it out? Zhe hatez all newziez everywhere and zhe haz gotten to zuch a point of deprezzion about her failed relationships zat zhe haz declared zhe will die an old maid," Mimi said shooting me a look at the mention of my declaration of dying an old maid since boys were so aggravating (after my boy dog-Ophie-had eaten half of my best sweater and was quite fed up with males as a whole) back five months before, in April.

Charlie still looked confused about this but continued on with her sewing while Mimi tittered over her work about how incredibly witty she was and I sent death glares at her-which she easily ignored.

"Zew it off, Abigail!" Mimi burst out after a time, making me nip the end of my finger tip on my needle and utter a very colorful set of words under my breath that was-thankfully-drowned out by the machines. Otherwise, it would have earned me a washing of my mouth using the foulest tasting soap courtesy of Mrs. Grimpleton and Charlie needing her ears washed out as well.

"Low, Mimi, low," I growled at her as I sucked on the bead of blood and shot a glare at my friend, who probably thought I deserved a brief prick of pain to remind me not to get full of myself, as she usually did. Mimi always said that I was too melodramatic for my own good and should get over myself. She was right, of course. It was hard to find a time when Mimi wasn't.

The rest of the day was spent in exchanging a few tidbits of gossip with the other girls and listening to Mimi prattle off 'Zew it off, girlz!' whenever she spotted me looking at the tiny scab on my finger which earned a slight grin from me, which made her smile. She knew that I agreed she was right.

As clock towers all over the city began to gong out the five o'clock bell, we flipped off our machines and took our last bit of work off and set it aside for starting up on Monday morning, since it was finally the fabled Friday. "What are your planz, Abigail?" asked Mimi as we trotted out of the workshop and the stairs, into the dirty streets of Manhattan.

"I was planning to meet Sarah," I replied, pulling on my sweater since it was remarkably colder outside than in the sweatshop. Sarah was a childhood friend and our mothers used to do wash together, but that was back when she was alive. My Ma died giving birth to my little brother, Benjamin. Since then, Sarah and I have remained friends.

"I would come along, but Johnny promized me zat-" Mimi began before Charlie and I cut her off, since we both knew exactly what she was going to say since she'd been telling us all week.

"You were going on a romantic night, just you and him," we chorused, which reduced Charlie to giggles and I grinned at the pouting look Mimi adopted onto her face.

We walked along, Mimi still pouting with her pale pink lip stuck out and her snow white arms crossed over her chest in the best act of pouting I had ever seen while Charlie was chattering on about what her Ma was making for dinner that evening.

When we reached the usual corner where we met in the mornings and parted in the evenings, I said with a grin, "Bye Charlie, have a nice evening and you too, Mimi."

The blonde French girl smiled and blushed, letting her curls fall in her face in embarrassment as Charlie waved goodbye to me and called, "Bye Abigail, you have a nice evening too!"

I smiled at my two friends before continuing down the street, passing a pair of Newsies that stood there, selling their papers. I hurried past, heading towards the end of the street and trying to ignore the pang of annoyance in my stomach as I went. Continuing on, I traveled two more blocks before coming to the Jacobs' building and hurrying in and up the stairs.

I stopped on the fourth landing up at a gray door with the golden number '24' on it. Raising my fist, I knocked only to have the door fly open seconds after. "Abigail!" cried Sarah with a smile at the sight of me.

"Hi Sarah, how are you?" I replied, noting the blue silk dress she wore and the ribbon she held in one hand.

"I'm good. Come on in, I was just about to head over to Medda's so she can finish up with make-up. Do you want to come?" She said in a whirlwind of words before ushering me in and tying the blue ribbon into her hair as I closed to door behind me.

"Why do you need to go to Medda's?" I asked in confusion. I have met the Swedish Meadow Lark a few times and I found her wonderfully nice. She was motherly and kind, not to mention her voice was absolutely amazing, although that's not saying a whole lot since my singing voice sounds more like a dying frog then anything else.

"Make-up," Sarah said bluntly pointing at her face with a frown. I rolled my eyes and shook my head, finally understanding. She had a date with that rogue of a boyfriend, Jack Kelly. Leader of the Manhattan Newsies-which made me not like him-but I can't deny that he does treat Sarah right.

"Alright, fair enough," I grinned as I watched her shove pins into her hair in a very messy manner, and making me get steadily more annoyed with the job she was doing. "Hand that over!" I said, snatching the brush from the vanity, plopping her onto the chair and beginning to redo her hair.

"Thanks, Abigail," Sarah said, watching my skilled fingers work in the mirror.

"No problem," I mumbled around a mouth full of pins.

"How'd you learn to do hair so well?" she asked after pause.

I waited to answer until my mouth was pin-free and her hair was done, which didn't take too long. "Mimi and Charlie always need help. Come to think of it, I wonder how she's going to do her hair for her date."

Sarah, who has known the French girl and nine-year-old as long as I have, smiled and asked, "Mimi and Johnny have a date tonight?"

"Don't I know it, she's been reminding us all week," I laughed as she stood from the stool and grabbed her shawl before making for the door with me following.

Sarah laughed at the thought of Mimi being well…Mimi before pausing, and, with a frown, adding, "I miss working with you all."

"No you don't," I said with a smile and shaking my head as we trooped down the stairs, "You may want to see us more, but working you don't miss at all."

The older girl's mouth quirked into a smile and then she giggled, which reduced me to giggles because Sarah's giggle are infectious and by the time we were out of the Jacobs' apartment building and half way to Medda's, we were still laughing.

As we began to calm down, I realized something, "Now wait a minute. If you have a date, why am I coming along?"

Sarah turned to look at me, and with a laugh she replied, "Because you love helping people get all dolled up." I rolled my eyes at this but kept following her anyway, since I really didn't have anything else to do.

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A/N: I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter! I have so much fun writing in the world of Newsies and researching how things were back in the turn of the century! Please leave a review!


	2. Medda Knows Best

**Chapter Two- **Medda Knows Best

After being waved through by Carl the Clown and trooping backstage to Medda's private dressing room, Sarah knocked on the door loudly and it was soon opened by the red haired performer, looking as stunning as always.

Smiling at the pair of us she said, "Hello, girls. How are you all?"

"Hey, Medda," I said with a nod as Sarah smiled in response and we filed past her, neither of use bothering to ask if we could come in.

"Make-up?" Medda asked Sarah after an inspecting eye glanced over the girl's dress.

"That would be it," Sarah replied with a nod and immediately made her way to the vanity and stool that sat in front of it with Medda followed behind and began to pick over the different paints she had there, glancing over at Sarah once and while to make sure she was getting the color right. (Or at least I think that's what it was, but I could be wrong. I really don't know that much about make-up.)

"So, tell me dears, what are you plans for tonight?" Medda said as she began to apply powder for Sarah's complexion.

"Sarah's got a date with Jack Kelly," I quickly interjected before Sarah could be modest and say that her date was just a meeting of friends or take the opportunity to inform our red headed friend that I had no plans for the evening.

The older girl rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at me, as Medda said with a smile, "You and Jack sure do like each other, don't you?"

"Yeah, we do," Sarah said, returning the smile before adding, "But, Medda, Abigail, here, doesn't have any plans for this evening."

I shot her a glare before turning my attention to Medda who was looking at me like she just realized what I was wearing. Feeling self conscious, I glanced down at my work blouse with the sleeves rolled up to my elbows, brown sash, and mouse brown skirt that was a tad short since it allowed my boots to show. My dirty blonde hair with a slight tinge of red in it was cropped short, since having long hair was hazardous in the sewing business, was stuffed under my hat.

"That won't do," Medda said simply, giving the evil eye to my brown skirt before saying decisively, "You'll have a night in the theatre. Some nice boys will be here, I'll have you meet them."

"Wait a minute, are these boys newsies?" I said before I could really think about.

"What's wrong with that?" Medda asked, tilting her head to the left and giving me a questioning look.

"Abigail has a vendetta against newsies," Sarah said, "Her first boyfriend was a newsie and then he rudely dumped her. I don't see a reason to still hold a grudge, since that happened three years ago."  
"Sure, share all my past relationships to everyone," I mumbled in a sulky manner while glaring daggers at my brown haired friend.

"Well, I'll prove to you that most newsies have no right to be hated by you, Abigail," Medda said with a nod as she continued on with Sarah's make-up, dabbing red lip paint onto Sarah's lips before starting on the eyes.

"That's alright, Medda, I need to go home and take care of Ophie," I said, beginning to inch towards the door and trying to use the mention of my cute little cocker spaniel that Medda took a shine to in getting out of this situation.

"Abigail Davis, if you take one step towards that door again I'll tell David you had a crush on him when you were ten," Sarah said, managing to not move an inch even though she was threatening me with total humiliation.

I froze in my tracks and turned my gaze to Sarah, a look of-what I knew was-mortal terror on my face. David and I were just friends now, but back when I was ten and a very heroic and charming (to a ten-year-old version of me, at least) David saved me from a very mean alley cat that was determined to get my ham from my ham and cheese sandwich saved me, I was smitten. I haven't liked him like _that _for six years but that doesn't change the fact that I'm still utterly embarrassed about it.

"Fine," I said begrudgingly as I stomped over to one of the chairs scattered around the room and plopped down, with a sigh like my fate of talking to a bunch of newsies for a night was whole lot worse than even getting your hand skewered by a sewing machine needle.

Medda and Sarah chatted as they finished up with her make-up before both the red head and brown head turned to me with a look of determination of their faces. "What do you say, Sarah?" asked Medda after a moment of them both taking in what they had to work with. (In other words: my face.)

"Well, she has lovely copper brown eyes that I bet could come out with some brown eyeliner and some pale blush to show off the cute freckles on the nose and cheek bones," Sarah replied thoughtfully.

"Eye liner, yes. But is she really going for cute?" asked Medda in response.

"Good point, but if you're going for just cute then the boys won't get the wrong ideas," Sarah reasoned, making me raise an eyebrow. Wrong _ideas_? What ideas would they be getting?

"You're right of course. I think a lovely pale pink gown would be nice with her eyes and her hair, when it's not under that hat," Medda said after centupling my slightly sun tanned complexion that was turning back into its paler than paper tone now that it was September. She eyed my hat with hatred and I grabbed its rough straw rims protectively.

"Then, it's decided?" asked Sarah and Medda nodded, heading over to her huge walk in costume closet while Sarah began to pick out appropriate paints for me and I feverishly hoped I wouldn't be dressed in a crazy costume gown while having my make-up look like Carl the Clown did it.

Soon Medda reappeared with a white gown with bell sleeves in one hand and a light pink sash in another hand. Sarah raised an eyebrow at it since they had decided upon a pink dress but she didn't comment about since it was a lovely gown.

"Sorry, this one caught my eye," Medda said, smiling apologetically in response to Sarah's look before ushering me into a changing room along with the white dress before shutting the door and allowing me to change in peace. After undressing to my underclothes and washing myself up with the water from the basin that Medda slide under the large gape between the door and floor, I pulled on my new dress, which was as pale as snow. The neckline was a V that plunged low but was trimmed with lace so that it was still modest.

The sleeves belled out and came to an end above my elbows were they hugged my arms tightly. The waistline sat right at my hips before gently belling out in a 'ball gown' style as Sarah would later inform me. Finishing off, I wrapped the pink sash around my waist and glanced into the full length mirror. Without my hat and in a new dress. I looked like an actual female and at best merely pretty, but that was a lot better then I usually appeared.

I stepped out of my dressing room and found that Sarah and Medda were staring at me with satisfied looks on their faces. "Well don't you look as pretty as a rose?" said Medda with a smile before Sarah herded me over to the stool in front of the vanity and they plopped me down.

As I began to feel a blush rise to my cheeks at being complimented, Medda started on my make-up and Sarah began to work at making my cropped hair as pretty as it could be, because-apparently-she was better at doing other's hair then her own. (Although I'm still doubtful.)

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A/N: Thanks for reading and I hoped you enjoyed! Racetrack and the gang will be appearing in the next chapter, I promise! (:D) Leave a review telling me what you think!


	3. Bet of Track's

**Chapter Three- **Bet of Track's

A half an hour later, I was blinking at my reflection, which didn't look at all like my scruffy and work-worn self, instead a round faced girl with brown freckles on her cheeks and refined nose that was slightly upturned-which I never knew that was how it looked-blinked back at me. My eyes looked like copper coins, except not nearly as shiny or round, and my lips looked as delicate and pink as Mimi's always prided hers as.

I glanced at the smiling faces of Medda and Sarah that hovered about my gleaming short red hair in the mirror and I returned their grins. "You are both miracle workers," I told them.

"I know," Sarah said with a laugh.

"You don't have to tell me twice," Medda chuckled before she glanced at the clock that sat dangerously on a pile of dresses, "The show starts in an hour. People will be arriving soon. Not to mention that Cowboy of yours will be coming to sweep you off your feet, Sarah."

Sarah's face grew red in the mirror and she hid a smile as she turned her face away to grab her borrowed silver shawl while Medda grinned and then shooed me and Sarah out of the dressing room, with Medda and I heading to the left and Sarah to the right, towards the exit of the theatre and off to her date.

"Have a nice time Sarah!" I called to her; twisting my head as well I could.

"You too, Abigail," Sarah replied with a giggle and then Medda shooed me down another hall and my friend vanished from sight. I grinned and then focused on hurrying along down the hall and up the staircase at the end.

"Up that flight there, dear," Medda instructed as we reached the wings of the stage, indicating a staircase that wound up another flight. I trotted on up, allowing Medda to take the lead when we reached the landing and came to the single door at the top. "All set for a wonderful evening?"

I frowned at the red head and her comment as she grinned back at me, "Medda, why do you say that like I _never _have any fun?"

"Simple; because you don't," she replied with a laugh before opening the door to a small corridor. With a second's hesitation, I stood there on the landing, watching the hen of my friend's dress swish through the door. Why was even doing this? Oh yeah, Sarah would dig up dirt on me and mortally embarrass me, not to mention Mimi and Charlie would probably help if they were asked.

'And really, how bad can a bunch of newsies be? Medda likes them and its not like she's asking you to fall in love with them, like them, or even see them again,' I reasoned with myself. With a sigh, I followed the older woman through the doorframe and into the small hallway, where she waited for me, hand resting and waiting on a door that I suspected led to one of the boxes.

"Nice of you to decide to join us," Medda said with a grin which I replied with a scowl that I was fighting very hard not to allow to turn into a grin. The red head woman then turned and twisted the doorknob, pushing the door open to reveal a crowded box where many boys sat already or milled around.

The first one to notice us was a blond haired boy with a patch over his eye who smiled and said, "'Eyya Medda!" before turning to the others and saying, "Look boys, its Medda!"

That caught everyone's attention and they all called greetings to my red haired friend or waved. "Hello boys," she replied with a smile of her own, "I hope you all enjoy the show, but I want to introduce someone to one. Everyone, this is Abigail Davis."

All the boys called a greeting to me and I could feel my cheeks beginning to flame at being under some many eyes as I said, "Hello," back.

"I was hoping you'd all accompany her this evening," Medda said with a charming smile that caught every boy's attention and made me roll my eyes and have to restrain a snort at them, they all looked smitten. I decided to compliment Medda on her abilities to charm people at a later date since now would just inflate her ego even more.

"Shouh ting, Medda," said another boy, this one a short Italian boy with a cigar stuck in between his teeth and a black cabbie resting on black hair.

"Wonderful," Medda replied before turning to me and giving me a wink. I frowned at her but she had already closed the door to the box and was headed backstage for her vocal warm-ups.

When I turned my attention back to the box, I found the Italian waiting patiently at my side for me to snap back into focus, "'Eyya Abigail," he said before adding, "Me name is Tony Higgins, but cawl me Racetrack. I'll intraduce ya to da boys."

"Alright," I nodded a little dryly since it was clear that he wasn't going to wait for me to reply because he was already weaving his way through the mass of boys to a few Newsies sitting around in a circle that seemed to be his closest friends.

"'Eyya Abigail," a few of them said once we reached their group while others nodded and smiled or tipped their hats to me, what gentlemen.

"Nowse, dis is Kid Blink," Racetrack said, pointing to the blond haired kid who announced the arrival of Medda and I, before pointing to a curly red haired boy, who I recognized, "Dis is Davey."

"'Hey Abigail, how's it going?" he said with a smile.

"Hi David," I replied before tuning in to Racetrack again, who had already introduced Skittery, but I wasn't really clear which one he was.

"Dis is Boots," that was a little African-American boy, who smiled at me before Racetrack introduced a tall boy with glasses on his nose, who was Specs, and then Crutchy, who was seated next to a crutch that he held onto protectively, before the round of names came to a curly brown haired boy with chocolate brown eyes. He looked a lot more muscled now then when I knew him, but I still didn't need the introduction. "Dis is Mush."

I pretended to not see him and Racetrack gave Mush and then me a questioning look before he shrugged and said, "Youse play Poka?"

"Goils don't play Poka, Race," said Mush with scorn, shooting me a look that I replied to with a glare before we both diverted our eyes.

"Yes, I do play," I said as if I never heard what the brown haired boy said. Racetrack nodded happily and we joined the circle of boys and started a game of Poker. Mush refused to play, but I don't care. Frankly, I'm happy about that. He hasn't changed one bit.

After a few games, in which Race thoroughly robbed all of our pockets and the other boys were put out about losing all of their day's earnings and had drifted away from us, Racetrack turned to me with a knowing look on his face like most newsies have. So annoying! "I'se make a bet wid you, Abigail."

"And what's that Race?" I asked dryly, fingering my now empty coin purse and beginning to wonder if I stayed late at the factory the whole of next week if I could make up the lost money.

"I'se bet that I can figga out why youse and Mush don't loik each udda," Racetrack said with a confident smile lighting up his face.

I gave him a weary look before saying, "What are the terms?"

"Wells, if youse win, den youse get all da money I won toda bu if I wins den I get to set youse up on a date," Racetrack replied. I winced at the conditions; it seemed like the little Italian knew exactly what my pet peeve was after our short acquaintance. Although…winning all that money would mean no working late, more food on the table, and maybe even a birthday present for Benjamin, my brother.

And really, what are the odds of Racetrack knowing why Mush and I refuse to look at each other or really acknowledge each other's existences? Slim to nothing, really.

"Fine, you got yourself a bet," I said with a confident grin in reply to his own.

He winked at me and then said, "Wells, youse and Mush used ta go out togeta. Youse hate 'im 'cause he dumped ya an' he doesn't liok ya because he tinks youse dumped him."

I was dumbstruck, and not for the reason that Racetrack knew, because that was the second thing on my mind. "He thought I dumped _him_?" I spluttered out after a moment of silence.

Racetrack nodded in a gloating fashion, which made me narrow my eyes and ask, "How did you know?"

"Wells, Mush is one of me best chums, ain't he? I'se known 'im fouh evah and he tol me abou youse break up," the Italian said, fingering his pocket, which was bursting with bills.

I scowled at him, still trying to work out how Mush could have thought _I _broke up with _him_. I was vaguely aware of what Racetrack saying something, and realizing he was looking at me expectantly as he waited for me to respond, I shook my head and asked, "Pardon?"

"I'se said, 'I'se win, so's youse got youse self a date tomorra,'" Racetrack said with a grin still on his face like he was some kind genius.

Deciding that I wasn't going to let this annoy me, (since Racetrack looked like his ego was about to explode or implode-I don't really know what egos do when too large) I replied saying, "Racetrack, if you wanted to go on a date with me, you could've just asked."

He blinked at me for a second before replying with a laugh, "Nah me, goily, and jus fouh dat, its goin' be someone bad!"

"Aw, come on," I protested unhappily. Racetrack opened his mouth to reply with some kind newsie humor but then the lights dimmed and the curtain open. I was so preoccupied with the thought of going on a date with some pervert the next day I didn't even enjoy Medda's two songs.

After the lights came back up, Racetrack shot me a smile and said, "He'll pick ya up at six, hea at Irvin' Hawl." I sighed unhappily and the Italian laughed at me and the look on my face like we were already long time friends. Scratch what I said early; I don't dislike newsies. I really, really dislike newsies.

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A/N: Poor Abigail, she had no idea what kind of force of betting nature she was going up against! I'm updating so fast, it's crazy! I just wanted to get this chapter up (which is where we begin to get the actual plot going) before the week began. Thanks for reading and please leave a review telling me what you thought!


	4. A Meeting Over Breakfast

**Chapter Four- **A Meeting Over Breakfast

I cracked my eyes open the next morning to sunlight and the face of my red and white cocker spaniel inches from my face. I groaned and rolled away from the dog and mumbled, "Five more minutes, Ophie." The dog yipped at me and stuck his cold, wet nose right in the back of my neck.

"AH!" I shouted, bolting upright in my bed, before turning and glaring at the dog, who wagged his tail and panted at me, giving this look like he expected me to be happy about being wakened via wet dog nose.

"Oh good, you're up!" said Benjamin, who had stuck his head into my tiny bedroom; drawn by the noise of my scream.

"I am now," I grumbled with a sigh.

"I have breakfast started," he began and looked at me hopefully. I smiled at him and his hopeful face before swinging myself out of the bed, with Ophie on my heels and Benjamin not far behind.

"And I'll finish," I said, breathing in the smells of bacon-a Saturday treat-already sizzling on the frying pan. Ten minutes later, Benjamin and I were seated at our kitchen table with Ophie's head resting on my knee hopefully. I ignored his big soulful eyes as he looked up at me, knowing I would give him a piece of bacon since he looked so pitiful if I dared glance at him.

"So, what were you up to last night?" asked my little brother after swallowing a piece of bacon whole, "You came home late."

"Yeah, sorry about that," I said with an apologetic smile before adding, "I'm just glad you were here to take care of Ophie." Usually, Ophie was looked after by our neighbor, Mrs. Benson, the old widow, except on Fridays, which was the old woman's shopping day. Benjamin was a bike messenger and sometimes he stayed out very late, but at least that wasn't the case last night. Otherwise Ophie would _not_ have been a happy camper.

"Stop dodging the question," he said, looking unimpressed at my attempt at trying to change the subject, which I really wasn't aware I was doing in the first place. (But, in retrospect, I was.) "Do you have a boyfriend? Because if you do, then I would be forced to beat him up, you know that?"

"Ben, I don't have a boyfriend. I went with Sarah to Medda's for her make-up since she had a date. The two bullied me into staying for the show and meeting some newsies…" I trailed off, not really sure if I should mention my looming date that evening with someone I didn't know.

"What?" asked Ben nervously, like he was expecting me to proclaim I was pregnant with one of the newsies' children.

I gave him a look, knowing that he was thinking exactly that and told him plainly, "I'm not pregnant Ben, but I did-"

Just then the door burst open and I once again regretted giving Mimi a key to the house since she came over so often (her father was drunk half the time after Mimi's mother left him) because she came gliding in with Charlie and Sarah trailing behind her.

"You 'ave a date?" Mimi exclaimed as soon as she was sure that everyone was in and all the attention was on her.

I sighed and Ben looked shocked at this news, "WHAT? Who is it? Where's he live? I got to go threaten him to keep his hands off my sister, right now!" he paused in his rant before looking at me with a serious look, "You realize you make my life very difficult, since I have to threaten every boy that comes around."

Snorting, I rolled my eyes at him; it's not like I had many boyfriends. One, in fact and we all know how wonderful that turned out.

"Whose the boy, Abigail?" asked Charlie in her little voice and giving me a excited smile.

"I don't know, Charlie. You see, I made this bet and I lost. So now, Racetrack is setting me up on a date with someone," I replied with a shrug.

"You betted with Racetrack Higgins?" Sarah asked in alarm although I knew she already knew this-only now believing this apparently-before adding in the same tone, "He never loses a bet, Abigail! We need to have a serious talk about gambling later."

"Well it wasn't my idea to even be there. Plus, if I won, I would've gotten all the winnings he got from the Poker game, and that was a lot of money," I replied, rubbing my temple. I regretted making that bet the second I realized Racetrack knew he was going to win from the beginning, which didn't take too long for me to figure out.

"He never makes a bet he knows he many not win, going into it he _knows_ he will win," said Sarah, not wanting to drop the subject of how incredibly stupid this was. But, she can't blame me, can she? She didn't exactly give me the dos and don'ts of interacting with newsies before she went off with her own dashing newsie.

Mimi, who wasn't big on dwelling in the past or focusing on subjects that involved people she didn't know when she could be talking about dates and boys, said, "Well, wat'z done iz done, oui? In any caze, you really don't know who thiz Racetrack fellow would zet you up with? Zarah, any clue?"

Sarah looked thoughtful for a second while Charlie came over to pet Ophie and Ben gulped down some more pieces of bacon, even stealing some my plate. I ignored him and watched my long time friend, since she might just know who I was going to spend my precious Saturday evening with.

"Well, I can think of three choices: Mush, but that's a 'no' since Medda filled me on the details of this bet and I can guess that Race has enough decency to not do something like that," Sarah said. I shuddered at the thought of a night with Mush and mentally noted to kill Racetrack if he did that. I wasn't in the least surprised, either, that Racetrack had informed Medda of our little bet which was how these three knew.

"Then there's Kid Blink. He's a real nice boy but painfully shy without his friends around. I don't think Racetrack would do that to him since it would be extremely awkward for you both," Sarah continued on.

Before she could finish, Ben stood and proclaimed, "Before this discussion of boys continues on, I'm going to make myself and the other boy in the vicinity scarce. Come on, Ophie." The little dog nuzzled Charlie before following my brother out of the door. He waved to all of us cheerfully as he pulled the door closed behind him.

We all stood in silence before Charlie asked, "Well, Abigail, what are you going to wear?"

"Ma chérie, la petite fille est raison!" Mimi jabbered in French before adding, "We must get to shopping! This is an emergency!"

"I don't have any money, Mimi," I reminded her patiently, trying to ease my friend out of her current state of excitement.

"Don't be zilly," Mimi said before turning to Sarah and Charlie and saying, "I for one zink that Abigail doez more zen enough for uz and we zould repay 'er by buying 'er a new drezz, zoez and zazh!"

"Here, here!" Charlie giggled as she bounced around in her ever-energetic way.

"I agree," Sarah said with a smile and then we all trooped out of my apartment, Charlie leading the charge followed by Mimi dragging me like a ragged doll with a death grip on my arm and Sarah in the rear, in case I got any big ideas about escaping.

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A/N: Yay! Next chapter! Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Please leave a review telling me what you thought of it!


	5. A Day With Race

**Chapter Five- **A Day with Race

~Racetrack's Point of View

Abigail seemed like a real nice girl. Not for me, of course, but nice enough. From what I could gather from Mush, she was a real sensible down-to-earth girl, not at all sappy, and stubborn as mule. She seemed that way, from what I could tell, and like someone that hates being in a relationship and that's what made me make that bet with her last night. Because, can you deny a poor Italian boy a chance to play matchmaker when given the once-in-a-lifetime chance?

Which leads me to why I was currently walking along the Brooklyn Bridge, hat shoved over my ears and hands in my pockets. I was absolutely determined to make this matchmaking successful, after all, I had a bet to win and I never loose a bet.

"Hey! Racetrack!" someone called from behind me. I turned to see a black haired boy with blue eyes and outfitted in a brown cabbie hat, white shirt, brown waistcoat, and trousers trotting to catch up with me.

That was who I meant with winning my bet against. "Johnny," I said with a nod before continuing as he caught up with me. "Fancy youse bein' here."

"Yeah, fancy that," he replied in his British accent. "So, I take it you found someone to set up with the subject of our bet?"

"Shouh did," I replied proudly. Johnny was a jockey down at Sheepshead racetrack although he was tall. I met him on one of my many days at the track and since then we've been friends. Our bet was made on a peculiar day when the King of Brooklyn himself was in the vicinity. Apparently he was there to bet on a horse he had a sure-fire bet on. I don't know if he managed to win, but Johnny and I had gotten to talking about Brooklyn himself and that's how the bet came up.

"Well? Who's the unlucky girl?" he prompted after a moment of waiting for me to say something.

"Da dame's name is Abigail. Abigail Davis," I said with a grin, waiting for my friend to ask me what kind of girl Abigail was, but his response was something I hadn't expected at all.

"Abigail? That's Mimi's friend!" Johnny said in surprise as we walked along. "She's too nice a girl to have to deal with Spot."

"Youse know 'er?" I exclaimed in shock before adding in a mumble, "Small woild."

The taller boy gave me a look before saying with an exasperated sigh, "Oh, come on Race. Mimi would kill me if she found out that you're setting her best friend up with the King of Brooklyn; famous for chasing after every girl that walks by."

"From what youse said of ya goil, Johnny, I tink Ms. Mimi would see dis as a romantic love story where's da goil changes da way of the womanizing man," I replied, knowing that if Johnny's girl was at all like he described her in his wistful tones, she would say just that.

"That's probably true," Johnny mumbled in defeat as we walked into the streets of Brooklyn and turned right to follow the road down to the docks and the court of the King. "So how you going to do it? Get Spot to go on this date?"

"Easy, I'se already has a bet wid him," I began.

"Of course you do," Johnny grumbled under his breath.

I ignored him and continued on, "And da bet was dat he has ta kiss a goil he's nevah met befouh on da foist date. 'Course, good ol' Spotty has met every goil in Brooklyn, he had ta wait until I found one fouh 'im from 'Hattan."

"So you just plan to make them go out once and leave it that?" Johnny asked dryly, sounding unimpressed that I would go to so much trouble to play matchmaker when the two where only going on a date once.

"Nah. Wid ya help, we'se goin' to make dis more den one date," I said with a sly grin.

"But then, I'll be helping you win in our bet," Johnny said with a sigh that said 'you're so stupid Racetrack.'

"Nah, I'se already won dat bet. You said I could nevah find a goil that was good fouh Spot and I'se did. But youse gotta help me nowse, udda wise I'll come ta ya funeral," I replied with a shrug as I let out a puff of smoke from my cigar while implying that his girlfriend was going to kill him if this didn't turn out well.

Johnny gave me a hard look as if deciding if he'd rather be killed by Mimi or help me in my scheming ways. "Fine, I'll help. But not for you, I just think Abigail doesn't deserve this. She's like a little sister to me, you know?"

I glanced up at him and saw the look on his face. "It'll be awl righ, I'se promise," I told him sincerely, patting his shoulder before I picked up my pace and said, "Nowse, come on, Spotty will be wondering why we'se takin' so long ta get ta da docks."

The older boy chuckled and once again was back to his cheerful self as we entered the docks, dodging dripping wet boys who had just climbed back out of the Hudson. Even though it was cold and windy on the bridge, on the docks it was still warm enough for swimming apparently.

"For the record, this was your idea, Race," said Johnny as we continued down the docks.

"'Ey, 'Hattan," one of the Brooklynites called to us in an Irish accent. I glanced up to see, a little ways down, a boy sitting on one of the crates. "Wha youse doin' here?"

"We'se came ta see Spot," I replied to him, not knowing which Brooklyn newsie I was talking to since I typically didn't journey over the bridge to visit with anyone from Brooklyn other than Spot, since he was the only one in all of New York that had any chance of winning against me in Poker, and a few others.

"Wells if it isn't Racetrack and Johnny" said another of the boys with a grin. I recognized him; he was Union, the Brooklyn second-in-command and a friend of mine. He was an average height with curly blonde hair and green eyes.

"Hey, Union," greeted Johnny with a smile as the two spit-shook and then he turned to me and we did the same.

"So's, whys ya need to see da bois?" asked Union after we were done greeting each other.

"Dat's between me and him," I replied. Union frowned at me before glancing at Johnny, who just shrugged,

"Alrigh, foin. Keep youse secrets. Youse know where ta foind him," Union said with a sigh and a shrug.

Johnny nodded to Union as he passed and I led the charge to the end of the docks before ducking under a beam and jumping onto a lower dock, where we found ourselves faced with a large heap of crates crowned with a boy wearing a gray cabbie hat, red suspenders, checkered shirt, and brown trousers.

"Wells, if it isn't Racetrack and Jockey, what brings ya to Brooklyn?" asked the King of Brooklyn himself, looking down at us with his usual smirk.

Johnny scowled as being referred to as this but wisely kept his trap shut. Instead, I said, "'Eyya Spot. Youse rememba dat bet we'se made?"

"Shouh," Spot said before adding in a dry tone like he'd been told this so many times and it was completely boring to him, "Goes on a date with a goil I'se neva met and get 'er ta kiss me."

I scowled at him and his dry and completely bored tone, since I knew he was perfectly interested in this before plastering a very Racetrack-like grin and asking, "Wells, I foind a goil fouh youse."

"Have ya now?" Spot said, leaning forward, interest showing on his face whether he knew it or not, "What's 'er name?"

"Abigail Davis," I informed him promptly with a grin.

"Neva heard of 'er," Spot said with a shrug before adding, "Buh, ain't dat da point? What's da dame loik?"

"Wells, she's real smart and sarcastic, which youse-" I began to explain but was cut off.

"Nah, nah. What's the broad look loik?" interrupted Spot. I stiffened at the word 'broad' and I could see Johnny do the same out of the corner of my eye. You could judge a man and how he respected girls by how they referred to them, and with Spot and his usage of the word 'broad,' it meant he had little to no respect at all. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, bet or no bet.

"Wells, da _dame_ is real purdy with shoit blondish-reddish hair and brown eyes. She's ga freckles, a noice nose, and a cute round face," I described nervously, not sure if I should be even describing her.

There really was no point, because after the King of Brooklyn heard of a girl that he had the slightest liking to meet, there was no stopping him. Not even if the girl was someone else's or if she was from Manhattan, Spot wasn't going to give up on meeting the girl, no matter what anyone tries to tell him.

"Coives?" asked Spot. I restrained rolling my eyes at this. One of the first things Spot looked for was curves, and as much as I disagreed with him, it was just how he thought.

"Shouh," I replied, not really sure since I never took notice of this, which was cause for a lot of teasing from the other newsies, because they were always saying how I was such a 'puritan.'

Spot nodded and his usual smirk crossed his face. "I'se loik da sound of da broad."

I sighed a bit unhappily, wishing that Spot's preferences might have suddenly changed, making Abigail sound not in the least attractive to him, but no such luck. So, instead I said, "Wells den, Spot, I hope youse free tonight, 'cause youse got ya self a date."

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A/N: I think everyone already knew it, but we finally find out who Abigail's mystery date is! (Hurray!) I want to say a special thanks to everyone who reviewed, you all are awesome, also thanks for reading, (I hope you enjoyed) and leave me a review telling me what you thought of this chapter!


	6. I Spy A Date

**Chapter Six- **I Spy A Date

~Mimi's Point of View

You'd think we were Chinese Watering Torturing her with the amount complaining and fuss she put up all through shopping and us getting her ready. From pinchy hats to pinchy shoes, nothing seemed above Abigail and her endless lists of complaints! And really, we're the ones paying for all these new clothes, so it's not like there's much to complain about! Sarah kept remarking about how 'she wasn't like this-as much-the night before' when Abigail had been shooed into a changing room and the three of us were waiting for her to come back. Charlie would just giggle and say that it was just Abigail being Abigail while I would scowl and mumbled incoherent things under my breath about people who complain in access amounts.

But, strangely, I could never confront Abigail about her need to kick the drama in the bum, since she was in the right for once. She didn't know who this Racetrack person would set her up with and if he would be come crazy drunkard or a worse. I couldn't imagine going on a completely blind date-as Sarah called it-and trusting someone I'd only known for about two hours to set me up with someone that wasn't completely crazy, let alone that I got along with them.

It was getting to be five o'clock in the evening, which seemed to always be the time when things happened in New York City, and Sarah, Charlie, and I were doing a final inspection of our subject, who had given up trying to escape the clutches of our hair pins and sashes a few hours ago. Ben sat at the kitchen table nearby, since we had set up Fort Style in the Davis' apartment living room, watching all the proceedings with curiosity while Ophie snored loudly from under the table, quite unconcerned with what we were doing.

"Hair's done!" Sarah proclaimed, stepping away to reveal the usually waving and messy blonde-red hair that Abigail called hair, which was now glossy and absolutely gorgeous.

"Sarah, that's lovely," chirped Charlie looking excited about just the mere sight of such perfectly done hair, although I probably shouldn't say anything since I was awed by it just as the little nine-year-old was.

The rest of her was up to snuff as well; her eyes had a thin circle of black eye liner around them, bringing out her copper eyes and freckles. Her lips were a dark pink-silver and her nose looked delicate and adorable, all courtesy of Charlie, whose masterful make-up applying ways was rivaled by only Medda.

"Fabulouz, Charleee!" I declared in a sing-song tone as Sarah herded Abigail off her chair so to show off my work. She wore an autumn orange skirt that belled out below her waist and allowed her delicate brown silk trimmed with white lace slippers to peep out. A copper sash much like the girl's eyes was wrapped tight around her hips while the blouse was tucked in becomingly. She wore an orange ribbon around her neck with the pendent engraved with Abigail's initials that Ben had presented when we all came home. (It had been for her birthday next month.)

"You didn't do half bad yourself, Mimi," Sarah said, going over Abigail's dress with a critical eye.

"Zanks Zarah," I replied dryly.

"Abigail! It's five, you have to get going if you want to be at Medda's on time!" squeaked Charlie, bringing everyone's focus back to the matter at hand.

Ben, who had until this point remained silent, came forward and with a serious expression addressed his sister like he had practiced this little speech all day, "Now, Abigail. I want you home by ten o' clock. You must stay at least arm's distance away from this boy and if he ever touches you, you have my permission to slap him across the face-"

"Don't listen to zat boy," I interrupted Ben, pushing him aside and planting myself in front of my friend where he was just standing. "You juzt 'ave fun and tell uz all about it zen you get back, oui?"

Abigail glared at me but I gave her a cheeky smile before stepping out of the way of Charlie, who looked like she was going to keel over if she didn't talk to Abigail that instant. "Abigail!" she began, "You have a nice time, okay? Maybe this boy will be a real nice one!"

"Maybe, Charlie," Abigail said with a weak smile. I knew she was nervous for her blind date. Really who wouldn't be?

Charlie grinned up at her older friend before giving her a quick hug. Sarah waited patiently until they were done before she took her turn to step forward. "Now Abigail, this boy is probably a newsie, so here are the three rules you have to follow. One: Never bet against one of them."

"Don't I know it," Abigail mumbled making Charlie and I burst into giggles and Ben frown in a disapproving-father kind of way.

"Two: Never mention another newsie that isn't with you at that moment. Newsies are competitive and chances are, your date and the newsie you might know might not like each other, well, other than Racetrack since he set you two up. Three: Don't be stupid, they take advantage of stupid girls," Sarah concluded in a serious tone that made Charlie and me shut our traps before the older girl broke into a grin and said, "But have fun!"

"Why does everyone keep saying that? It's not going to happen," Abigail complained.

I frowned at our pessimistic friend but didn't comment about it; instead I herded her to the door and proceeded to push her out, saying, "Time to get going!"

"Aren't you coming to Medda's to see me dropped of?" she protested weakly.

"Nope!" I said with a grin before slamming the door on her face and making Ophie bolt up, jolted out of sleep. The little dog looked about before flopping back down; deciding nothing exciting was going on.

"Alright," Sarah said, glancing down at her wristwatch as she did so, "We have exactly forty-five minutes. Charlie?"

"Yep!" the younger girl said, producing a rucksack that was full of trousers, waistcoats, cabbie hats, shirts, and suspenders.

"Exzellent," I nodded with a grin on my face.

"What are you guys up to?" asked Ben warily, eyeing all of us like he wasn't sure whether to be intrigued or run away, screaming.

"Did you really think that we'd let Abigail go all alone on her first real date in three years?" asked Sarah as she was handed the sack from Charlie and began to pull out clothes that were her size.

"We're going to follow her!" said Charlie gleefully as she accepted trousers, shirt, and suspenders from Sarah.

"Wait, wait! I'm her brother, I feel like I should be included in this plan!" Ben said, interrupting us, making all of us stop and look at him; making me freeze as I grabbed my own boy's clothes.

"He doez look about Abigail's zize," I mused, glancing over at Sarah, who shrugged before I looked back at Ben and said, "How do you like ze zound of 'Benitta?'"

Exactly forty-five minutes later and after a mad dash through the streets of Manhattan to Irving Hall, us girls were wearing our boy's clothing. All of our hair was tucked up under cabbie hats while I wore a gray waistcoat and matching trousers and both Sarah and Charlie both wore suspenders. The nine-year-old's were navy blue while Sarah's were a mellow brown. Ben, on the other hand, was dressed in a dark blue skirt, brown boots, and white blouse, sporting a dark blonde wig that we had picked up after it was clear the hat idea wasn't going to work out.

I have to admit, when crunched for time, Charlie can sure work wonders. Ben had black mascara on with black eye liner and pink lipstick as well. He passed perfectly for a girl, a very flat chested girl. It was fortunate that he was so slim; otherwise no one would have believed the guise.

"Let'z go Benitta!" I shouted over my shoulder as we turned onto the street where Irving Hall was located.

I could hear wheezing from behind me and I turned to see Ben chugging along behind me and he managed to gasp, "How on earth do you manage to move so fast in these?"

"Talent, oui?" I laughed as I waited for Ben to catch up with me and power walking along beside him, since we can't just run up to the theatre, too conspicuous. We caught up with Charlie and Sarah, who had stopped to lean against a store front window and were pretending to occupy themselves with chattering away about something.

As we joined them, Ben began to chatter with the two others as I glanced around. I saw Abigail waiting next to a little Italian boy that I assumed was Racetrack from what I heard about him throughout the course of the day. They were chatting together and I could tell Abigail was getting anxious to find out who her date was, and then I spotted a boy wearing a blue shirt, red suspenders, gray cabbie, and brown trousers walking along down the street, opposite the way the four of us had come. He carried a black, golden tipped cane in a belt loop and with a hand resting on the top; he looked like he was daring someone to comment out so he could whip it out.

He looked a little bit roguish but certainly handsome. That was him.

"Promize not to turn around," I began interrupting their nonsense chatter and after everyone nodded their agreement, I added, "But Abigail'z date 'az juzt arrived."

Sarah raised an eyebrow, and slowly she extended her arms and began to do a luxurious stretch, twisting around as if to stretch her back and to get a good look at the new arrival while she was at it.

"Is that…?" Ben began, not needing to do a stretch since he could see clearly without needing to move his head a bit, just like me.

"Spot Conlon," Sarah finished in a solemn tone, "The third choice."

"Third choice?" Charlie asked, looking confused, as if she couldn't remember there being a third choice.

"You never mentioned another one," I said, trying to keep the alarm out of my voice so as not attract attention to us.

"Well, Ben here didn't allow me to finish," Sarah said, glaring at Ben for interrupting her that morning during our little pre-shopping debriefing.

"Sorry," Ben said sheepishly, trying to look innocent.

Sarah rolled her eyes before turning to Charlie and me, both of us equally clueless. "Spot Conlon is the leader of the newsies in Brooklyn and known for picking up girls and dropping them faster than Charlie can eat an ice cream sundae."

"That's pretty fast," Charlie said in awe.

Me on the other hand, the gears in my mind were spinning and as they did, a smile spread on my face. "Ziz iz great!"

"How exactly?" Ben said in a dry tone.

"Becauze, Abigail will change hiz wayz zince he will be zo madly in love wiz her!" I explained, nearly singing this news. I knew it was going to happen! Abigail was such a typical, reluctant heroine and this Spot seemed to fit the independent, tough rogue that had a heart of stone that was soften by the heroine. (Played by Abigail)

"Mimi, this isn't one of your romance books," Sarah told me with a sigh and a look that read 'you are such an idiot.'

I rolled my eyes at her and said, "I don't zink so, Debby Downer."

"I think Johnny Raincloud would be more fitting; we are dressed as boys," Charlie pointed out, making me nearly erupt into giggles-but of course I didn't because boys don't giggle-and Sarah scowl at the pair of us. Ben just looked worriedly at his sister and the King of Brooklyn.

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A/N: I love cross-dressing...or maybe just torturing Ben. Either way, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and thank you for reading it! Next chapter is date time (finally!) and its all typed out and waiting a final look over for editing! Please leave a review telling me what you think of this chapter and what you think will happen next! (I love to hear you guys' predictions!)


	7. A Night Out

**Chapter Seven- **A Night Out

~Abigail's Point of View

I stood nervously next to Racetrack, feeling for all the world like I was about to face death itself. "You awlrigh?" the Italian asked like he just noticed my current state of jitteriness.

Restraining from giving him a glare-he knew full well that I was not in the least alright, thanks to him-I just said, "Just a little nervous, is all."

"Wells, doin't be," he said with a confident smile and a pat on my shoulder. I then shot him a glare and he raised his hands in defense before adding, "Dis fella is real nice. Youse'll like 'im. Jus be youse self and youse will be fion."

"Thank you, Racetrack, for that wonderful pep talk," I told him quite dryly, not in the mood for being nice to the boy anymore even though every word I was saying was making the little Italian grin in that gloating way. Was his sol existence in life to irk me to no ends?

He just grinned in response to this and before he could say whatever he was planning to, he caught sight of something behind me and I turned to see a handsome boy with bright blue eyes, brown hair under a gray cabbie hat, and dressed in a blue shirt, red suspenders, and brown trousers that even Mimi would pass as presentable, walking towards us. He carried a cane in a belt loop that made me wonder what kind of big shot and bigger ego this boy was.

"Dere he is, Spot Conlon," Racetrack announced, indicating the boy like we were a pair of proud mothers and Race was pointing out his precious daughter. (This analogy in itself nearly made this situation comical if it weren't for the fact that this Spot Conlon fellow wasn't completely attractive.)

"What kind of name is Spot?" I whispered out of the corner of my mouth to the little Italian, not wanting this boy to hear me since he looked like he was itching for the opportunity to whip it out and crack someone over the head with it.

"His," Racetrack replied simply, which earned him a swift glare from me before I turned my attention back to Spot Conlon.

He was looking me up and down, analyzing me and it made me feel extremely small and vulnerable; I was feeling very grateful at that moment to Sarah, Charlie, and Mimi, who had insisted on making a shopping day out of today. He smiled at me with a smile that I knew had melted hearts before, and it even made me feel a little mushy, but really mushiness and nervousness don't mix together all too well.

"Hello Miss, I'se assumes youse are Abigail Davis?" Spot said as he whipped off his gray cabbie hat, took up my right hand, and planted a kiss on it all in one single, practiced move. "I'm Spot Conlon, ya escort fouh dis evenin'."

"Nice to meet you, Spot Conlon," I replied with nod, glancing out of the corner of my eye briefly to see Racetrack grinning like a fool and I resisted snorting at him, since that would've awkward.

"Wells, I'll leave youse two fouh the tiom bein' and see's youse back hea at nine," Racetrack said, tipping his hat to me and nodding to my 'escort' before strolling on into Irving Hall to catch Medda's show and probably to rob every unsuspecting person of their money through lengthy games of Poker.

"Nowse, me lovely lady fouh dis evenin', shall we be ouif?" Spot asked after a moment of silence and offering me his right arm along with wearing a charming smile. I got to hand it to Racetrack; he sure seemed to know what kind of guys can treat a lady right, even if the guy was a newsie, which wasn't hard to figure out from the cabby hat and the confident air about him.

"It'd be my pleasure," I replied with a smile of own as I took his arm.

"Are you sure we can be up here?" I asked shakily as Spot lead me onto the roof of the nearly-finished Flatiron Building by the hand twenty minutes later. I could see the lights from the gaslamps on the streets far below reflecting on the windows of the buildings and seeming to float up to us. There was a strong wind blowing over the skyline and I could feel my stomach flip-flop.

I hate heights. I can't go up onto my own apartment building's roof-which was only six stories high-without beginning to feel light headed and right now, on the thirty or more story tall Flatiron Building's roof I felt like the ground was going to open up under my feet and I would go falling onto the streets far below.

"O' course," he reassured me with a smile, leading me over to a blanket that was set with two plates, silverware, and a basket in between that gave off the most glorious smells that would have tempted me to forget about heights if it weren't that we were so extremely high up.

I nodded back feebly, hating myself for looking like such a scaredy-cat in front of an arrogant (probably the_ most_ arrogant) newsie, but right now his hand seemed to be the only firm thing to hold onto at that moment and I allowed him to lead me over to the blanket.

Sitting as gracefully as possible and making sure my skirt stayed at a modest length as I fell onto the blanket, I smoothed my skirts and waited for Spot to take his own seat. I knew he was looking at me, but I wasn't paying attention, I was too busy trying to keep my hands from shaking and force them not to get clammy.

"Are youse hungry?" he asked without a second's pause. Before I could reply, my stomach involuntarily growled which made one side of his smile tug up. I hadn't eaten anything other than a very meager lunch which I wouldn't have gotten at all if it weren't for the threat of fainting.

"I guess I am," I said with a slight shrug and returning his smile.

"Good," he nodded and began the quick work of getting out all sorts of food from the basket. There was everything; a plate of cookies, a few bottles of root beer, cheesy potatoes, corn bread, hot dogs, and hamburgers.

"That looks delicious," I said wistfully, sniffing in the smells of glorious food. After that we chatted about our favorite things to eat, since it seemed the right thing to do with such wonderful smelling food that we had, as Spot dished out my plate for me. I even admitted that I love hot dogs loaded with mustard and ketchup-which he included on my plate-that I never told anyone because it seemed like something Mimi would tease me about, because she occasionally called me a tom boy.

"I'se actually like Coney Dogs," Spot said after taking a bite of hot dog and washing it down with a swig of root beer.

"Coney Dogs?" I asked blankly after swallowing down a forkful of cheesy potatoes.

"It's hard ta explain," he said with a frown before giving me a wink and adding, "I'se get youse one sometime."

That wink made me loose focus on my nerves and I scowled at him, which made him chuckle a bit. After he stopped with that, he asked about different things-family, work, friends, how I met Racetrack, whatever came to mind-and I replied while shooting him the same exact questions back, which made him laugh at me. I would ignored him and take the opportunity to eat more food while waiting for him to answer. (And refusing to answer any of _his _questions until he answered _mine._)

But when I went to pick up the hot dog, since I was saving the best for last, my hand was shaking so hard that I couldn't pick it up at all. Even though my mind had been focused on something else for the past hour or so with talking to Spot, my muscles hadn't forgotten, it seemed. Joy.

Now Spot noticed my sorry state, and he said with another wink and grin, "Youse don't have to be noivse fouh my sack." I shot him a glare before glancing over at the edge of the roof and then back to my hot dog, which seemed to be laughing at me and my inability to pick it up and eat it.

"Ah," Spot said after a moment of staring at me in an analyzing way, "Are youse afraid of heights?" I meant to glare at him again but I guess something in my eyes gave away that he hit in the nail on the head because he scooted next to me as he could wrap an arm around my shoulders and gently pushed my head to rest on his own shoulder.

"It's awlrigh," he said softly, "I'se got ya." Slowly, and much to my annoyance, my nerves calmed and I relaxed into his shoulder. If you would have told me earlier that day that I was allowing a newsie to have his arm around my shoulder and actually resting my head against his shoulder, I would have laughed my head off at you but at that moment it felt safe and right to have someone there to calm my nerves.

"Come on," Spot said, pulling away and then helping me to my feet, "Let's get rid o' dat fea shall we'se?"

"What do you-?" but I never finished because Spot had swept me up bridal style and was carrying me toward the edge and with every step I could feel my heart drop. "Spot? What are you doing?" I clutched the front of his shirt in terror as he stopped right at the edge and I was literally suspended in air only by his arms.

"This isn't funny Spot," I said in a low voice before adding, "Please set me down on solid ground." He glanced down at me like he just noticed I was clutching onto him, and his usual smirk vanished from his face.

His grip tightened on me and he said, "I knowse sometin' dat will make ya feas vanish."

Before I could open my mouth and ask him 'Oh really? What's that?' in the driest voice I could muster, he kissed me on my parted lips. It was the strangest thing I had ever experienced. Like being shocked by a thousand bolts of energy and riding high in the sky without fear of falling all at the same time. I had never been kissed before, not by Mush even, my first 'boyfriend.'

"Feelin' bettah?" he asked after a pause of me just holding onto him and him cradling me.

"I think so," I replied a little breathlessly. Then the clocks began to gong out the nine o'clock hour.

I watched as his face turned into a grimace as the clocks tolled and he said, "Race will be wonderin' were we'se are if we'se don't get back."

"Yeah," I agreed as Spot moved away from the edge and lowered me back onto my feet, although he still kept his arm wrapped around me until we were off the roof and heading back towards the earth after Spot assured me he'd take care of the left over food later.

He even kept his arm around my waist after we reached the streets of Manhattan. But I didn't complain. My nerves were still jittery from that kiss. I didn't know if kisses were always like that but all I could say was, boy, could Spot Conlon kiss.

* * *

A/N: Ahh, the date we've all been waiting for! Love it, like it, hate it, was neutral about it? Tell me in a review! Thank you for reading, too, and I hope you enjoyed! Don't forget to review! (I figure if I put that reminder twice in here more people will remember)


	8. Another Bet For You

**Chapter Eight- **Another Bet For You

~Racetrack's Point of View

After Abigail and her orange skirts vanished into her apartment building, since Spot insisted the two of us walked her home-which was filled with a lively conversation in which both Abigail and Spot teased me about my betting (seems like they found common ground)-I turned to him with a questioning look.

"Wells?" I asked as the two of us set off for the Brooklyn Bridge since Jack made me swear earlier that day when I informed him that Spot was going to be in 'Hattan with a girl that I would see him out.

"Wells what?" he asked in response with a smirk unfurling on his lips.

"Don't pla stupid, Spoit," I said, rolling my eyes at him before letting out a large puff of smoke into his face, "Did ya kiss?"

There was a pause as Spot kept me in suspense before he said, "We'se did."

I moaned unhappily thinking of all the horseracing tips along with Poker winnings I would be giving him in the near future before another thought occurred to me and I said, "Do youse swear ya did?"

"O' course I'se do," Spot said before adding after spitting a fair amount of saliva onto his hand and offering it to me, "I'se even spit-shake on it."

I did the same as he did and we shook once and I said with a sigh, "I'se believe youse Spot, bu dere goes all me Poka winnings and horseracin' tips."

"Aw cheer up, Race, youse gotta lose some sometime, righ?" Spot said with a grin as we turned onto the street that led to the Bridge and Brooklyn, but I was barely listening to him. I promised Johnny that that these two weren't going to be just going on one date, and I had a plan to make it happen.

I needed to talk to Johnny and Union tomorrow, but for now-"'Eyya Spot, I'se gotta bet for youse."

"Nutta nudda one, Race," Spot said with a sigh while rolling his eyes.

"Jus listen, youse go out wid Abigail fouh more den two months-dat's longa den youse evah gone out wid a dame and I bet youse can't beat it. If youse win, wells youse get me best tin of cigas," I said. I hated to wager my cigars, but it was the only playing material I had and if Spot did date her and all went according to plan then I would keep my cigars (he would forget all about it, hopefully) and those two would be happy together.

"And if I'se win, you let me come ovah every Wednesday ta rob ya boy's pockets in Poka," I added just so the slightly taller boy wouldn't get suspicious since I hadn't mentioned gaining anything.

Spot walked along next to me in silence for a few moments as he thought over this idea before nodding and saying, "Awlrigh, Race, youse got a deal." We spit into our hands again and shook on it before Spot turned and strolled along the Brooklyn Bridge and disappeared into the night.

I vaguely wondered what happened to all the food I saw him carrying towards the Flatiron Building earlier that day, but then again. This is Spot Conlon we're talking about. He probably had his birdies taking care of it.

* * *

A/N: A very short chapter but I decided to post it so I don't make anyone wait for such a short chapter! (I posted the wrong chapter last time, which is surprisingly the first time that ever happened...at least I caught it, right?) Anyway, a big thank you to all the people that have reviewed, story alerted, or/and favored, you all are awesome! Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Don't forget to leave a review!


	9. Sunday Chats

**Chapter Nine- **Sunday Chats

~Mimi's Point of View

It was agreed between Sarah, Charlie, Ben, and I before eight o'clock in the morning-which must be some kind of world record-that last night didn't work out at all like any of us had expected, nor wanted. After tailing Abigail and the dashing Spot Conlon-who noticed us-to the Flatiron Building we were forced to wait around on the streets for them since we couldn't figure out where they had gone.

Charlie swears that they went through a trap door while Sarah just says its Spot being Spot, since he could vanish into thin air without leaving a trace behind. I wasn't quite sure how she knew that-since talking of Brooklynites during a date didn't seem like a good conversation starter or topic to cover-but I just took her word for it.

We-meaning Ben, Charlie, and I-were standing around on the sidewalk in front of the Jacobs' apartment; waiting for Abigail to retrieve Sarah and her two brothers so that we all could head off to church together. Ben looked a little frazzled still from the previous night's excursion, which was a point of concern for Abigail on the walk over to the Jacobs'.

"If you ever make me wear a dress again-" Ben began in a very threatening way after the door to the apartment building swung shut behind Abigail.

"Oh don't worry, zilly," I said airly, waving my hand at him, "I won't." I would never put Ben into a dress for the simple fact that he looked much better in a skirt. Ben grumbled something incoherent to this and gave me a scowl before turning his back on me.

Charlie, who until this time was quiet since she usually was silent as the grave in the morning, finally said, with a yawn, "Benitta, you looked nice in that dress yesterday."

"Zat's what I zink too! Zurely you believe ziz truth coming from Charlie?" I said with a victorious grin, which Ben just replied to with shooting a glare in my general direction before turning his attention back to the spot of brick he was staring at on the side on the Jacobs' building.

Just then, the door swung open and Abigail led Sarah and her brothers out of the building with a triumphant look on her face. (And rightly so, since it only took five minutes to get them going when it usually takes ten.) "Hello ladies," David with a charming grin.

"Good morning," I replied with a smile while Ben grunted a sound of greeting-but I could be wrong-apparently very sore at the fact of not being acknowledged as male after so recently cross-dressing against his better judgment.

What happened next because-by some crazy turn of fate this had never before happened since Charlie usually attended church with her folks-Charlie caught sight of Les and Les caught sight of Charlie, and it could only be described as love at first sight. The little nine-year-old girl ducked her head as her cheeks pinked and clasped her hands together behind her back like she did when she was nervous.

"He…he…hello," Les managed to stammer out, while clutching his brown cabbie hat in his hands and looking redder than a tomato.

"Hi," she managed to squeak back. "I'm Charlotte, but you can call me Charlie."

"I'm Les, nice to meet you, Charlie," he replied with a smile, which made Charlie blush even harder-from the smile and usage of her nickname.

"It'z love," I whispered to Sarah who had found her way to standing next to me. She rolled her eyes and gave me her signature 'you're such an idiot' look.

"Shall we be off?" asked Abigail, starting off down the street followed by David and Ben, none of them noticing the important event in both of the nine-year-olds' lives. I sighed in disgust at them all but followed anyway, knowing the moment was demolished like Charlie with an ice cream sundae.

After church, which was mostly made up of listening to a righteously long stewardship sermon, the seven of us all trooped along towards Tibby's and brunch that waited there. As we walked along the sidewalk parallel to the border of central park, I spotted a familiar curly black haired young man leaning up against a light post, looking for all the world like he was waiting for someone.

Leaving off on my eavesdropping of the awkward conversation that Charlie and Les were trying-and failing-to start, I trotted hurriedly over to Johnny. When I came within arm's reach, he looped both his arms around my waist and after a quick kiss, he said, "Hello, my love. How was church?"

"Better if you were zere, but bearable if I get to zee you now," I replied with a smile and a shrug. He chuckled at me before we set off together, taking our time to catch up with the rest of the group and Johnny putting an arm around me.

"Listen, you know Racetrack Higgins right?" Johnny said, like he wasn't sure if he should be telling me anything about this.

"I know of 'im," I replied, glancing up at my boyfriend with worry, since he shouldn't be hesitant to tell me about anything, right?

"Well, he set up Abigail and Spot," he stated and I nodded in agreement before he continued on, "And he doesn't want them to just go out once and that be it. So he asked me to find out what Abigail thinks of Spot and Race is going to ask one of Spot's friends to do the same."

"I zee ze problem," I interjected, wrapping my mind around exactly what was going on, "You need me to azk Abigail about Zpot zo zat zey can go out again?"

"Basically," he replied with a shrug before adding, "I don't like the idea of it at all, because Abigail's like a little sis' and I don't want-" be began, but I cut in since once he gets going on one of his little worry-rants then there's no stopping him.

"It'z alright, Johnny, I'll take care of it. I zink zhe quite enjoyed herself yesterday, which iz something new, zo zis Zpot haz something going for 'im, oui?" I said with a laugh. Johnny chuckled at that before swinging me into a quick kiss and sweeping me up and carrying me bridal style to catch up with our friends, despite my protests, for the very good reason that he wanted to.

Later that day, after the laundry was hanging out to dry in the cool September breeze and Ben, Charlie, and Les were out on a walk with Ophie along with Sarah off to meet her dashing boyfriend and Johnny on his way to ride in the afternoon races, Abigail and I were finally alone as we prepared mugs of cider for the walkers.

"Just ask already," said Abigail quite dryly as the door closed on the trio and the dog, "I know you've been dying to ask all day."

"Azk what?" I said in a innocent voice and glancing at her out of the corner of my eye before hurriedly turning away so she wouldn't see my happy grin.

I knew Abigail had rolled her eyes at me before she said, "How the date went."

"Right," I said as calmly as I could before turning back to her to see she had an eyebrow raised expectantly at me. "Well, how waz it?"

Abigail paused for a moment in thought before saying slowly, "It was…nice."

Well that was just anticlimactic, not to mention not fitting at all. I could tell through my experiences with boys, that that Spot fellow looked like a charmer and charmers-when taking girls on dates-are never classified as just 'nice.' "Juzt nice?" I asked before adding, "What did you do?"

"We had dinner on top of the Flatiron Building," Aha! So we did follow them to right place, we just didn't know we had. "And, well, he…I…"

Abigail trailed off, her cheeks growing pink and she ducked her head shyly. Now it was my turn to raise an eyebrow at her as I set down the mug and pitcher of cider I was holding and asked her plainly, "Did you two kizz?"

Her head shot up she looked at me with wide eyes, probably shocked that I had guessed right. It was a weird feeling to have Abigail looking at me like I was the one that knew everything when usually it was her I was looking to for help. I can't say I particularly like the feeling either. "How did you know?" she asked.

"Well, I am like zat after dates wiz Johnny. All mizty eyed and full of bluzhez," I said, getting a little wistful just thinking about him.

"Oh yeah, how did your date go on Friday?" she asked, as she poured another mug of cider and set it out.

"It waz-" I began before catching on to what she was doing and giving her look, saying, "Don't zink you can change ze zubject zat easily! Now tell me, do you zink you like zis Zpot Conlon?"

She paused in preparing to pour another mug, and turned her head to the side in thought, "I can't really say. When we were talking it just seemed so easy and natural and when he kissed me…"

"I zee," I interrupted, sparing her from trying to stick a description on something that couldn't be described (I am French, we know about these kind of things, oui?) "Wellz, Mizz Abigail, it iz obviouz zat you have a natural connection wiz zis boy."

Abigail gave me look like she was deciding whether to believe me or not and then she said with a sigh, "Mimi, I actually think you're right."

I smirked a thought occurred to me and I asked with a frown, "You zay that like I'm never right." Abigail glanced at me before bursting into giggles, which just made me frown more. Have I ever mention how weird Abigail is?

* * *

A/N: And so Race's plans are beginning to take off thanks to the supreme snoopiness of Mimi. (Race is hugely in debt to her and yet they've never actually met...weird) Thanks for reading the latest chapter and I hope you enjoyed! Please leave a review! Love it? Hate it? Tell me, please!


	10. A Conference Concerning the Union

**Chapter Ten- **A Conference Concerning the Union

~Racetrack's Point of View

After selling every last one of my papers in record time and going to Sunday Mast, being the good Catholic that I am, I stuffed on my coat that is more holes than fabric, shoved my hat down low over my ears, and began the long walk from the Lodging House to the Brooklyn docks that was sure to be freezing since the temperature seemed to have dropped twenty degrees over night.

"Hey, Race!" someone called to me as I rounded the corner off the street that the Lodging House sat on. I turned to see Johnny, wearing his riding breeches, black boots under a thick wool jacket and carrying his helmet and racing goggles. "You off to the track?"

"No, goin' ta Brooklyn ta tawk ta Spotty-boy…well actually Union," I replied, sheepishly admitting who I was going to talk to when Johnny raised an eyebrow at me.

The taller boy nodded before saying, "Well, good luck with that. Anyway, I asked Mimi for her help. I expect an answer by tomorrow."

"Dat goil of yours is a miracle worka," I replied as I shook my head and grinned, once again deciding that I was going to meet her someday.

Johnny shrugged a little embarrassedly before saying, "I know." I grinned at my taller friend before deciding to change the subject since I knew from personal experience that if you let Johnny talk for too long about his girlfriend you'd loose him to 'wistful Johnny.'

"I'm 'opin dat Union will help me wid tawkin' ta Spot," I began before adding, "Since if I do, den it'll look suspicious."

"He probably will, he always likes to play matchmaker," the taller boy observed.

"Watcha mean?" I asked, glancing at him with a puzzled look on my face.

"Well, Union was the one that set Mimi and me up on our first date. They're cousins-believe it or not-very, very distance cousins," Johnny explained, adding in the last bit when he saw the confused look on my face. I've never actually seen Johnny's girl but the odds that Union and Mimi being related seemed extremely outlandish.

"Small woild," I mumbled making my friend give me an odd look.

"Déjà vu," he said, since I had said that same exact thing yesterday, before we reached the turn off for Sheepshed racetrack and he said, "Alright, see you later, Race. Good luck with talking to Union to talk to Spot."

I chuckled a bit at my friend before replying, "An' youse wid ya racin',"

Thirty minutes later and after a long trek over the Brooklyn Bridge, I found myself strolling onto the docks, which was still relatively quite since it was Sunday and that meant everyone was out selling the special Sunday papers or at church. I spotted Union with a blue cap stuffed over his head as he sat hunched over a leather book with a pen in hand a little ways down the dock, perched on a crate just by dock that held Spot's 'throne.'

"Mornin' Union!" I called to him. He looked up at me and broke into a grin before waving me over.

"'Eyya Race, howse ya doin'? Youse been comin' ova ta Brooklyn a lot lately, tinking of joinin' us?" Union joked when I was within a few feet of him.

"Nah, neva. An' I promise I'se won't make a habit of it," I replied with a grin.

"See ta it," the blond boy nodded before adding, "Bu youse are ou' of luck. Da General is off doin' 'is sellin' or at choich."

"Actually I came ta cawl in dat fava you owe me," I said before adding, "An' since when did ya cawl Spoit 'General?'"

"Since he gave me dis Union hat fouh me boithday. It was a gift from all da boys," Union replied, tapping the black rim of his navy blue cap which had a gold pin of two crossed muskets clipped proudly to it. That's were Union got his name, his pa was in the Civil War and Union grew up on the stories of his pa's war days and has since loved history.

"It's youse boithday?" I asked a little shocked.

"It's not till tomorra, Septemba twenty-fifth, bu it was an early gift," he replied with a nod.

"Wells, happy boithday," I told him.

"Tanks," he nodded before adding with a frown, "Nowse, I don't rememba owin' youse any favas."

"Youse sure do," I said with a slight smirk before adding, "Rememba dat bet we had abou' who could eat da most stakes o' pancakes?" After the Strike ended, back in August, Union and I were eating at Tibby's as celebration along with every other newsie in New York. We had found ourselves in an argument about who could eat more pancakes-a start to a beautiful friendship-and we ended getting into a bet/contest. I managed to win but only by half a cake, so now he's in my debt.

"Oh yeahs," Union said, a sick look coming over his face at the thought of all those pancakes. "Foin. Wha do youse want, exactly?"

I grinned happily, before saying, "Wells, I needs ya to tawk ta Spoit and find out what he tinks about Abigail Davis, da dame he went out wid last night."

Union blinked at me for a moment before saying, "So's youse want me to tawk ta Spoit about 'is feelins?"

When he put it like that it sounded like I was just a walking fruit cake, but Union always had a way of putting things bluntly and not completely accurately, so I said, "Yeah, in a very loose since o' it, yeah."

Union gave me a pleading look, silently asking me not to make him do it, which I replied to with a grin and saying, "Come on Union! Dis is fouh da good of Spoity-boy ta."

The blond boy sighed and mumbled incoherent things under his breath about it 'being his birthday,' 'stupid favor,' and 'hate my life,' before he said loudly-seeming to have come to a decision, "Alright, I'll tawk ta him. If I 'ave ta."

"Youse have ta," I confirmed with a nod before adding, "And make shouh to tell me wha he says afta, preferably by Tuesda."

Union started at this and said, "Youse want me to get Spoit to tell me about his feelins and den tell ya abou dem? Do youse want to see me hang?" What did he think I wanted to talk to Spot for? Just for the Brooklyn leader to get some quality counseling time?

But, the boy had a point. One couldn't just go around disclosing personal information about Spot Conlon, but I had thought of this already and had come with a plan, so I said, "I'se invite ya to the Poka night on Tuesday in 'Hattan. Spoitty boy can come ta, but we'se want youse ta come since I 'challenged ya to a game.'"

"Bu da General is usually busy wid his boidy business on Tuesday," Union said, not really grasping the point since he was still too distressed with the possibility of being killed thanks to me.

"Exactly da point," I said with a smile. Union blinked at me before he nodded and a look of determination came over his face. My plan was now in motion. Not bad matchmaking for an Italian boy if I do say so myself. Not bad at all.

~Union's Point of View

I can't believe that good for nothing son of the Mafia was really making me do this! What did I ever do to deserve this? I bet this is some kind of divine punishment for eating the last piece of the cherry pie that Mimi had told me was to be saved two weeks ago.

But, nonetheless, there I sat on my usual crate with my brown journal in one hand and a fountain pen that I had spent the better part of the past two years saving up for. I had been writing down more of my Pa's stories as best I could remember them, but now that stupid, little scheming Italian was forcing me to risk my neck for no particular reason other than to-probably-win a bet of his, I was too distressed to even think about writing.

It was nearly six o'clock and that meant most of the boys would be back by now (I had taken the day off-a rare treat-since tomorrow was my birthday) and that meant Spot would be coming along with them. No one jumped into the water, just plopped down on the edges, swung their legs and began to chatter about whatever exciting things had happened that day.

Spot finally appeared, cane in one hand and the other stuffed in his pocket and walking along with his usual swag that just seemed to shout that he thought he was the most important guy in the world. I have known Spot for a long time, longer than any of these other boys. We had grown up in the newsies together, me, that recently orphaned son of a loving father and happy family, and Spot, the tough Irish boy with a drunkard father that he managed to get away from after seven miserable years.

Race once observed that he was surprised that Spot's head was inflated since he had such a huge ego. I couldn't deny that Spot could use a wake up call to bring him back to earth, but I also think that if he were born into a rich business family and not that of a drunkard, he would have been a big name. He was always looking for the next best thing, always trying out new things. Would have made him successful in the railroad business or whatever else, but that applied to how he treated girls. (So, yes my little reminiscing does tie in.)

He was like my brother, but I didn't approve at all about how he treated girls. My own mother was a respectable woman that was a true force of nature when it came to getting her way, but Spot's ma died giving birth to him so the only example he had growing up was his abusive father that treated girls like they were dirt-or worse.

I sat there thinking all these things as Spot took his good time to meander towards his throne. I had no clue how exactly I was supposed to start the conversation, but when Spot came over to me and clapped my shoulder and said, "'Eyya Union," I had an idea.

Be casual. "'Ey Spot, how was dat date o' ya's las nigh?" I said before mentally kicking myself. Real casual, Union, real casual.

Spot blinked at me before a knowing smirk came across his face and I wondered what exactly what this knowing smirk meant. "Allse a sudden interes' in goils? Ga someun on ya min?"

I couldn't help it; my mouth dropped down to my toes and I gave him this look of 'What?' Spot can be a pretty intelligent guy most of the time but sometimes-like when it came to my romantic life-he always jumped to the wrong decisions. Ever since my last girlfriend, who I was going to ask to marry me, broke things off, Spot has declared me in a state of depression-that's what he calls me not dating any girls for the past year-which is extremely annoying.

Then, in a sudden insight of very Race-like thinking, I gave him a sheepish grin and said, "Yeah."

"Wellse youse tawkin' ta da righ guy. Da dames fall at me feet don't dey?" Spot said with a grin as he motioned for me to follow him over to his throne. "Fouh example, las nigh, da dame I went on a date wid was a real stubborn goily, but I took her for dinner on top of the Flatiron Buildin' in 'Hattan. Lucky me, she's afraid o' hats, and I'se kissed her ta win ma bet wid Race. Bu, dat's besid da point."

I made mental note to kill Race if he ever made me talk to Spot about his romantic life again-since Spot's summarization of his date sounded like he was describing just another street brawl-but I asked in a thoughtful tone, "Spot, do youse liok any of da goils youse go out wid?"

Spot shrugged and he said offhandily, "Neva been wid a goil long enough. Da dame from las night seemed like a real nice goil. Someun dat could hold her own against me, 'cept fouh da heights." He shrugged again before changing the subject and looking at me with interest and saying, "Nowse, abou dis goil of ya's."

"I'se tink I have second-in-command issues ta get ta," I said hastily, trying to avoid needing to make up some fake girl that I was enamored with and beginning to make for the end of the docks.

But Spot was too quick for me because he stuck out his cane in front of me and said, "Nowse, come on Union. Dis is a big deal. Youse haven't lioked a dame since las yea. Don't tink I will jus let ya go widout hearin' abou it."

And so for the rest of the evening, I was stuck answering question after endless question about a girl that I had made up-her name's Rebecca Alan-who has chocolate brown hair, tanned skin, and lovely yellow-green eyes (she's from southern France.) I'm actually quite liking the sounds of this girl I'm in love with, when can I meet her?

* * *

A/N: I think I secretly have a crush on Union...even though he's an OC. (Yes, I'm weird.) Anyway, it was Celebrity Day for Spirit Week at my school today and I dressed up like Spot Conlon...it was pretty much the coolest thing since sliced bread. (Thought you'd guess appreciate that) So, thanks for reading the chapter-I hoped you enjoyed it-and please leave a review!


	11. Fiddlesticks!

**Chapter Eleven-** Fiddlesticks!

~Abigail's Point View

Monday and Tuesday passed as uneventful as usual-well as uneventful as things ever get around Dee and Darby's clothing factory. Charlie and Mimi spent most of their time speculating about the background of the 'ever dazhing' (as Mimi put it) Spot Conlon even though Johnny and Ben had filled Charlie and I-since Mimi was off at some cousin's party-in on the story of Brooklyn's leader Monday during a lively spaghetti night.

The three of us were walking to work on Wednesday morning, ignoring the cold breezes of the morning and trying to avoid stepping in the puddles that dotted the sidewalk from the rainstorm the afternoon before, when we turned onto the block that the factory sat on. A scream arose that sounded suspiciously like Heather-one of the factory workers-and just as that was voiced a scruffy man rounded the corner and bowled the three of us.

"Watch it!" I shouted in surprise as I regained my footing and turned to see the man barrel away with a leather purse in hand. I heard Mimi groan in realization of what was going on and Charlie exclaim, "Oh gosh," and just as we began to start in pursuit, the man reached a pair of girls with a little brown terrier trotting besides them.

Making to bowl through the pair like he did us, the man went straight for the gap between the two brunettes, but then the shorter of the two stuck her foot out to trip him and used a side punch that sounded like it broke a few ribs, even from all the way down the street. The little dog yipped once before bouncing onto the fallen man and giving him a firm nip on the nose as a warning to not get any big ideas about trying to run off.

I know my mouth was hanging open, catching flies, while Mimi stood with a shocked expression and Charlie looked like she was going to implode from being too excited. "Come on!" the little nine-year-old said, leading the way to the two brunettes.

One was tall and slim with gray-green eyes that were stunning against her sun-tanned skin. She carried a fiddle in one hand and its bow in the other, staring at the man crumpled on the ground with a disapproving frown, while the other was short and petite with equally dark brown hair, ghostly gray eyes and lighter skin, who just nudged the man with her foot.

"That was amazing; how you just stopped him in his tracks!" Charlie said with a little bounce as she did when she was excited.

"Huh?" said the shorter of the two in a Midwestern accent before getting a good look at the three of us and asking, "Is the purse one of yours?"

"No, it'z 'Eather'z," replied Mimi helpfully, looking curiously at the two girls, especially the fiddle in the taller one's hand.

"Well, then let's take it to her," the taller one replied, snatching the purse from the man, who mumbled an incoherent response that all of us ignored.

"Noelle, find a popo and get this guy taken care of. Fiddle?" the shorter girl instructed the little brown dog that thumped her tail before she jumped off the man and trotted off while the other girl-Fiddle?-nodded.

"Zhe'z zis way," Mimi said, leading the way back down the street towards the street the factory was on.

As we walked I fell in step with the girl and asked, "Where'd you learn to fight like that?"

"I grew up on a farm with six brothers, I had to learn how to fight," the girl replied with a smile and a slight chuckle. I smiled along with her and was about to ask her what her name was but was interrupted by a happy squeal.

"You got my bag back!" Heather cried, hurrying forward to retrieve the bag from the girl's hands before returning to her spot next to Mrs. Grimpleton, who had been drawn outside by the noise and was in the center of a crowd of our fellow factory girls.

"Ah, well that seems to be one problem solved," said the old woman with a nod before taking notice of the four of us. "Well, hello Ms. Yule Vandalia Carter. I have been expecting you. Where's your little sister?"

The short girl, whose name was Yule, which was odd sounding to me. For some reason, the name 'Yule' didn't fit the tiny girl that could throw a punch. Yule nodded before saying, "She's back taking care of the thief."

"Very good, very good. Well nice to have you two on the job," the old woman said with a nod of her own before her gaze swept over the crowd of girls, "Um…Abigail!" I bolted upright and stood stalk still, thinking I was in trouble since the only time Mrs. Grimpleton ever recognizes an individual person was when one was in trouble. (Even though I couldn't think of anything I did wrong.)

"Yes, Mrs. Grimpleton?" I asked stiffly.

"Would you and your two friends be so kind as to show the ropes to our two new workers?" she asked before turning and leading the gaggle girls into the factory, not bothering to wait for my response, because it wasn't a request.

Mimi, Charlie, and I turned to look at Yule and she returned out stares with a raised eyebrow before she said with a grumpy sigh and a forced cheerful tone, "Hello, what's-your-name, what's-your-name, and what's-your-name, I'm Yule-or Yulie-Vandalia Carter, but just call me Terrier."

"Oh sorry," I said hurriedly, realizing what an idiot I must have looked like before adding, "I'm Abigail Davis."

"I'm Madelyn du Carviotte but I like to be called Mimi," Mimi introduced with a smile.

Charlie bounced forward and said with a grin, "Hi, I'm Charlotte Andrews! But call me Charlie!"

"Nice to meet you all-" Terrier nodded before she was cut off by the sound of a fiddle playing a lively country song coming from around the corner and few seconds later, Fiddle appeared with the little dog-Noelle-hard on her heels. "That's my sister, her name's Eve Julianne Carter, but I call her Fiddle or Fiddlesticks."

"I can see why," I said a little dryly which caused Terrier to give me a slight smile.

When the taller of the two Carters reached as she stopped her playing and said, "He's taken care of, Terrier. Noelle got the nearest popo to come running," she paused in her little report and looked at us like she just noticed us, "Well, hello! How long have you been standing there?"

Terrier shook her head at her sister before saying, "Lead on, Ms. Abigail! We have much to learn."

"What about introductions?" Fiddle protested in a whining tone as the five of us trouped into the factory.

"We'll do that as we go along," Terrier replied with a grin at her sister who replied with a frown. And so the rest of the day was spent with Terrier-whose nickname came from her little terrier (a Norfolk Terrier apparently) following her around-and Fiddle-who's randomly inspired by something and picks up her fiddle to compose a song at moment's notice before returning to her work-bickering back and forth in the bantering way and Mimi, Charlie, and I not really sure how to react to these two.

As the five o'clock bell rang, Fiddle and Mimi-who had found that they were both interested in fashion about half way through the day-were discussing rather loudly about the advantages of cardigans and regular sweaters were (whatever that means) when the five of us shuffled out of the factory.

"There she goes again," I mumbled as Mimi went off on one of her bursts of passion over fashion.

"Is this typical for her to do? Because Fiddle usually only gets like this in stores," Terrier said giving a weary look at the French blond girl.

"Yep. She can go like this for hours upon end," Charlie informed our new friend with a smile and a nod that made her curls bounce around her face.

"Great," Terrier mumbled dryly as she scooped up her namesake, since the little dog was getting tired from having to move her short legs so fast to keep up with us.

"Exactly my thoughts," I agreed with her as we strolled down the street behind the two. As we came onto the next street, an arm looped around my waist and I was spun rather gracefully into someone's arms.

"Abigail?" said a worried Terrier, giving the boy that the arm belonged to a glare like she was silently threatening him to let me go. The boy gave me-and Terrier-a dashing smile. It was Spot Conlon, piercing blue eyes, red suspenders, cane, and all.

"It's alright, Terrier, I think," I replied.

Spot gave me a grin and a wink at this before loosening his grip on me a bit, and saying, "'Eyya me dowl. Could I tawk to ya?"

"Sure," I replied, wishing that there was a reason for me to not talk to Spot since I really wasn't sure how I felt about him. But, nonetheless, I turned to Terrier and Charlie and said, "I'll catch up to you guys later."

As we turned away, I heard Charlie say to Terrier in a low, conspiring voice, "That's Abigail's beau." And Terrier reply with an amused, "You don't say?" I scowled at them and mentally noted to threaten Charlie with never letting her have any ice cream on spaghetti night for the next month if she didn't stop spreading rumors about me.

"So's, Abigail," said Spot after we were out of ear shot of the others, "I'se was tinking dat I'd liok to go out wid ya again sometime. Ma be Friday?"

"Um," I said, trying to think up an excuse to not go, but nothing came to mind. I would have lied, but from what Johnny and Ben had informed me about Spot Conlon, he would easily be able to find out if I was lying and it was never a good idea to lie to Spot Conlon. "Sure. That sounds great."

"Wondaful," Spot said with another of his famous grins before he turned me to face him so that he could give me a quick peck on cheek before disappearing. That was another thing about that boy, he could apparently appear and disappear without a trace-and boy I believed it.

But I wasn't too concerned with that because I stood there for a few moments with a scowl fixed on my face. The nerve of him! And with that I set off with a huff towards home, mentally taking note to let Terrier beat him up if he ever tried to do something like that again.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the long-ish wait. This week has been way to busy (stupid string art!) and I've already broken my decision of regular updates on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Sundays! Oh well, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and the two new characters! Thanks for reading and please leave me a review telling me what you thought.


	12. Hey, Baby!

**Chapter Twelve- **Hey, Baby!

~Abigail's Point of View

"So, who did you find someone for hair?" asked Charlie as Mimi finished off with dressing me and younger girl squatted on the floor as to better pet Ophie. It was the late afternoon on Friday already and Mimi and Charlie had situated themselves amongst the chairs and couch in Ben and my living room.

"Terrier," Mimi replied around a mouthful of safety pins that she was using to make the cloths tight at my hips to better show off my non-existent form.

"No way!" Charlie and I exclaimed at the same moment before I cried, "OW!" because Mimi had stuck me with a pin. Accidently or on purpose or accidently on purpose, I wasn't sure.

"What did I zay about talking?" asked Mimi with a reprimanding tone.

"Not to," I replied miserably.

"Exzactly," Mimi nodded as she circled me to inspect the front of my blouse.

"Mimi, don't you have a date of your own to get to?" asked Ben as he strolled in from his own bedroom where he'd been changing out of his red messenger uniform to see a sight that had become increasingly more common as of late, much to my great dismay.

"Non, drole petit frere!" Mimi laughed. "Demain soir!"

"Mimi, English," I said with a mock frown at her as she lifted my left arm to inspect how my sleeve fitted when I moved my arm.

"I zaid, 'No, zilly little brother! Tomorrow night,'" She translated in a dry tone and giving me a slight glare before adding, "'Appy?"

"Not at all. I do have another date, don't I?" I asked. Mimi shot me the 'you know you like him so stop acting like your going to the chopping block' look that she had been giving me an awful lot in the past two days.

"Aw, come on Abigail!" said Charlie in her ever-optimistic voice, "You may have fun." Mimi nodded in agreement with this, but whatever pearl of wisdom she was about to tell me was interrupted by a knock on the door and instead she shouted, "Come in!"

"Oi! This isn't your house woman, don't tell people to come in willy-nilly!" Ben shouted from his position at the kitchen counter where he was trying to fix dinner for Ophie-who sat eagerly at his feet-and scowling at the French girl, who easily ignored him. In came Terrier followed by Fiddle and Noelle, causing Ben to say in disgust, "What is this? A public meeting room?"

Everyone ignored him as Fiddle exclaimed, "Mimi! That is positively fabulous!" and she promptly rushed over to look at my sky blue skirt, blouse, and gray-silver sash.

"Zank-you, zank-you," Mimi said, bowing a bit like she was being applauded.

"You're just inflating her already monstrous ego," I said rolling my eyes as the two fashionistas examined my outfit and I tried to hold still for fear of being impaled with another pin.

"Careful, it may explode if made any larger!" Terrier said with a completely straight which caused Charlie to burst into a fit of giggles. As this was going on Ophie had noticed Noelle and Noelle had noticed Ophie. The two dogs stood staring at each other, noses wiggling as they sniffed from a distance and ears pricked forward.

I waited for one of them to go over to the other as I tuned out Mimi and Fiddle's inspection of my outfit but was brought back into focus when Fiddle exclaimed, "Ah-ha!" and she brought her fiddle under her chin before using her bow to play out a chord of notes that led to a lively swing tune.

Charlie, so taken by the music, began to dance all by herself while Terrier and I stood around awkwardly and Mimi swayed to the music. Even Ben's grumpy expression vanished temporarily and both the dogs yipped and wagged their tails to the beat. "Does this always happen?" I mouthed to Terrier.

She shrugged in response and replied, "Yeah, but let's do your hair while we have the chance."

We departed from the others and with a few masterful strokes she got my hair into a gleaming curtain of dirty blonde hair. After a few minutes of work, Terrier found her work satisfactory and just in time too because there was a knock on the door.

Ben, still quite fed up with having so many people crowding up his living room, huffed over to the door, threw it open and shouted, "Why do you people even bother-" but then he stopped short since he finally realized who it was.

Standing there, with his hand resting on his black cane lazily at his side and wearing his usual red suspenders with gray cabbie hat perched on his light brown hair, topped off with a smirk painted on his face and his left eyebrow raised at my brother was my date for the evening. "Heh…heh…oh…" Ben said lamely before clearing his throat and saying, "You must be Spot Conlon."

"Oh ziz iz ze boy?" asked Mimi, saving Ben by stepping forward to bob a curtsy to the newsie. "I'm Mimi, Johnny'z girlfriend. You may know 'im?"

Before Spot could answer, Charlie pushed her way through Ben and Mimi and said, "Hi! I'm Charlie!"

Fiddle raised her bow again and played a short Irish jig before saying, "And I'm Fiddle." Spot blinked at her in confusion before Terrier pushed through the four of them, with me in tow.

"And this is Abigail, you're date for the evening," Terrier said, shoving me into Spot, who easily caught me in his arms. I shot Terrier a scowl-who replied with a wink-before she closed the door on the two us with the farewell of, "Have fun, kids!" And then it turned strangely quiet on the other side of the door.

We stood there for a moment, "You'se 'ave-"

"Let's not talk here but get going," I cut in before saying in a loud voice, "I think they might be listening at the key hole."

"'Ow did zhe know?" exclaimed the voice of Mimi.

"I knew we should've just rigged a sound system in the stairwell," came the grumble of Ben.

"Haha, she was wrong! We're listening at the space under the door!" Fiddle said triumphantly before adding to this thought a short verse that sounded like a victory cheer from her fiddle.

"Isn't there a fancy word for that space?" asked Charlie in confusion.

"I don't know. Either way, we're still listening at doors," Terrier said matter-of-factly, which was agreed with by Noelle and Ophie, who both gave short 'woofs.'

Spot gave me an impressed look that I knew that they were in fact listening to us-although I suspected he knew this as well-before we took the three flights of stairs down to street level.

"Where we off to?" I asked after I stepped out of Spot's arm looped around me, since he had never dropped it since I was pushed into him.

"Ever been ta da Statue of Liberty?" asked Spot with a smirk. I've seen the Statue from across the river ever since it first began to be built, but never actually got to go into the great copper lady since it's cost was more than my meager factory could manage.

"No," I replied a little wearily.

"Wells, afta tonight dat won't be true anymore, will it?" replied with a grin like he was relishing his own cleverness and I just raised an eyebrow at him, getting the feeling that we weren't going to be paying for our ferry tickets like most folk would.

Sure enough, forty-five minutes later Spot had somehow managed to loop his arm around me again-I'd given up trying to stop him after the eighth time and decided to just live with it as long as he didn't get any ideas-and was leading me around the island that the great statue was grounded on after a ferry ride that didn't cost a penny out of either of our pockets.

He was playing tour guide, and it was strange to see someone like him spewing out facts about different things, but I was enjoying it nonetheless (since I may never see him like this again.) "Some say dat da lady is based of da artist's mudda," he informed me, using his free arm to point at the statue as if I didn't see it.

"I hope she isn't copper," I said thoughtfully gazing up at the woman bearing the gigantic torch and tablet. Spot rolled his eyes at me and I suppressed a giggle. As Mimi had been explaining to me earlier that day, it was weird when the tables were turned and the usually sensible person was being funny and the funny person was being sensible. (But that's not to say I have a very good sense of humor right at that moment, since I'm not sure if I have one at all any of the time.)

"Wells, anyways, dere's a Coney dog stand ova dere. I promised ya one, rememba?" Spot said as we set off towards the ferry dock and the round man behind a food trolley.

"Sure, I just didn't think that you'd be fulfilling that promise so quickly," I shrugged as we walked along. It wouldn't have mattered if I didn't want a Coney dog since _Spot_ wanted one, so that meant we _were_ getting one. But my stubborn self liked the fact that I agreed to this and wasn't just being dragged along.

Five minutes later, after witnessing Spot being a perfect gentlemen while buying two Coney dogs, we strolled along, wondering aimlessly, with Coney dogs in hand. "You'se 'ave a real weird family," Spot stated after we were both ate about halfway through our deep fried, batter-coated meat.

I got the feeling that Spot had been meaning to say that for awhile now and it made me grin at the thought of the surprised look on his face when he was faced with my eccentric friends and brother. "They're different," I nodded in agreement.

Spot chuckled at that-it wasn't supposed to that funny-before he asked, "Who was da boy that shouted in me face?

"Do you promise not to jump him or get someone else to jump him in a dark alley?" I asked jokingly although I was being perfectly serious. I really wouldn't put it past Spot Conlon to do something like that; not after what I heard about him via Johnny and Ben.

"O' course nah," Spot assured me with a grin.

"Well, that was my brother, Benjamin or Ben," I explained before adding, due to Spot's expecting look, "He's a bike messenger."

He nodded in understanding, before saying as thoughtfully as Spot Conlon has ever said something thoughtfully, (at least I'm assuming so) "I'se liok ta know dem all bettah, wells dat is if you'd be me goil."

I blinked at him for a second before my mind kicked into gear and my options-which were very few-raced through my brain. I could say 'yes' and possibly fall for him and then have my heart broken as Ben and Johnny warned he did to every girl or I could say 'no' and have him chasing after me until I agreed to being his girl. So, was there really any options?

"I'd like that," I said giving him a smile. He grinned back at me before looping both arms around my waist and giving me a kiss like this sealed the deal.

* * *

A/N: In case anyone was wondering, the title of the chapter 'Hey Baby' is in reference to the song played at football and basketball games. (You know: 'Hey! Hey Baby! I want to know if you'll be my girl.' Yep, that one.) Other than that, I hope you enjoyed the craziness of the gang and Ms. Abigail and 'zhe ever dazhing' Spot Conlon's date! Thanks for reading and please leave a review!


	13. Turning Out Just Fine

**Chapter Thirteen- **Turning Out Just Fine

~Racetrack's Point of View

It just wasn't turning to be a good day for me. Sure, I had sold all my papers faster than usual and I had managed to sneak into the racetrack without being caught, but so far I had lost all my bets since it seems like no ever tells the horses. (That seems to the case most of the time.) And Spot was winning our bet. Don't forget that.

Him and Abigail were possibly the cutest couple on the face of planet Earth-it was quite sickening-and they've been together for more than two weeks now. Although, I can tell that Spot doesn't really like her beyond his usual attachment to girls and Abigail seems to be unsure about her feelings for the King of Brooklyn; but at this rate, I'll be loosing my best tin of cigars, even if Snipeshooter doesn't nick them. Not to mention that all my matchmaking will have gone to waste.

I sighed and leaned back into my seat, ignoring the offer to place another wager from one of the wandering bet takers, and scanned the horses as they were herded towards the starting line. Johnny was riding in the next race and I could see his cobalt blue helmet peeping above the railing between the tunnel that went from the paddock, under the stands, and to the track. A blond girl stood near his helmet and I briefly wondered if that was the infamous Mimi, but then my attention was caught by something else.

Coming up the stands towards me was Spot and Abigail, hand and hand, and chatting up a storm. They seemed to be in an argument about something but when they came into earshot I heard Abigail say, "I'd like to see you solve a mystery about how a man was killed in completely secure room!"

"It'd be easy," Spot replied airly, "It wasn't a secure room wa it?"

"It appeared that way," Abigail replied in a dry tone before she noticed me seating there with an eyebrow raised at the two of them.

"'Eyya Race," greeted Spot with his usual smirk.

"Hello Racetrack," Abigail greeted as well.

"Hey you two, hea for a day at da races?" I asked a little sarcastically since I was still sore about them not showing any signs of actually liking each other, even with the help of Mimi and Union's interrogations.

"Mimi dragged me along," Abigail informed me a little dryly as she glanced over at the blond I saw earlier, still near the railing.

"And I'se came along wid me goil," Spot replied, giving me a pointed look at the words 'me goil' and a wider smirk crossed his face briefly, his little way of bragging that he was winning our bet. I restrained myself from scowling at the two before a brown haired boy appeared at Spot's side. I'm guessing the kid is one of the Brooklyn's newsies since I'd never seen him before.

"Hi Otter," Abigail greeted the boy, being the first to notice him since Spot was busy gloating and I with my sulky thoughts.

"'Ey Miss Abigail," Otter replied with a grin and tipping his hat to her before asking, "Mind if I'se borrow 'im fouh a minute?"

Abigail glanced at Spot before looking back at the newsie and saying, "Sure."

"I'se be righ back," Spot told her, giving her a quick peck on the cheek before disappearing into the crowd with Otter following behind, probably off to discuss secret Brooklyn business.

"Care ta sit down?" I asked, patting the seat next to me. Abigail shrugged and lowered herself in the spot next to me. We sat in silence as we watched the horses start off around the track. My bet-although I hadn't put money on it-was on number six, Boot Buckle.

"Any bets?" asked Abigail as we watched the horses start to round the first turn.

"Numba Six, Boot Buckle," I replied as we both jumped to our feet to better see the horses as they turned onto the back stretch.

"Really? I was thinking Number Eleven, Copper Jinx," Abigail said glancing at me in surprise before turning her attention back to the race to watch its progression.

I raised an eyebrow at this and found the little blood bay filly that Abigail had described at the back of the pack with my eyes. She didn't look like she was struggling in the least to run like some of the front runners that were already tiring even though they were not even half way through their mile and a quarter run, but then again, neither was Boot Buckle.

"Wha makes you'se tink dat?" I asked as we continued to watch. Abigail shrugged in response and we watched in silence as the front runners dropped back and Copper Jinx and Boot Buckle passed the three furlongs sign, and like a bullet shot from a musket, the filly sprinted forward like her tail was on fire, and she won the race, leaving all the other competitors in the dust.

I turned to her with a-what I was sure was-surprised look on my face and asked, "'Ow did ya know?"

"I'm dragged to the track often enough with Mimi to see Johnny to pick up a few things. Copper Jinx's parents are the racing legends-" Abigail explained before I finished for her.

"Desert Sage and Fleet Foot," I nodded, feeling extremely stupid that I forgot that the filly's parents were indeed the local legends of Sheepshed Racetrack. "How'se come I'se neva seen youse around hea befouh?"

"I haven't come since we've met, have I? Been too occupied," Abigail said, giving me a meaningful look and I knew she was still mad with me about that bet that lead to her current situation and unsure feelings towards the King of Brooklyn.

"Righ," I said a little uncomfortably as I plopped back in the seat to wait for the beginning of the next race. I cleared my throat before hastily saying, "Wha were youse and Spot tawkin' abou when youse were wawkin' up hea?"

"Sherlock Holmes," Abigail replied simply. I gave her a questioning look, and she sighed and rolled her eyes before saying, "I've explained this to one newsie today, I'm not doing it again."

"Fa enough," I replied with a shrug, not wanting to get onto the topic since Abigail was obviously aggravated that no one knew anything about it.

"Sherlock Holmes is the fictional detective created by Arthur Conan Doyle," Abigail explained after a moment of silence. "Known for his powers of observation and intellect. Spot was arguing that he was just as good if not better, and I was disagreeing since agreeing with Spot isn't an easy thing to do."

I laughed at that for the sol fact that is was the absolute truth. The way that Spot was so arrogant, it made you just feel plain stupid to agree with him and irked me to no ends when I actually _did_ agree with him.  
Then a thought hit me, and it gave me little hope for keeping my cigars; Abigail was the type of girl that could keep Spot grounded since she is willing to stand up to him, even if the reason was to just be stubborn. "Dis might turn ou' jus fine," I mused aloud.

"What?" asked Abigail, looking confused at this.

"Oh nothin'," I said putting on my best innocent look which she looked like she didn't believe for a second before hurriedly saying, "So's howse Mimi doin'? Johnny is always tawkin' abou her, I'se feel like I knowse her."

Abigail gave me a suspicious look but decided to let it go, and changed the subject.

* * *

A/N: Hurray! The next chapter! I swear one of these days the two mastermind-schemers (Race and Mimi) shall meet and combine their amazing snooping skills to cause true chaos upon all newsies everywhere, but not today. (I was just thinking about that since Race saw Mimi and Johnny chatting...:D) Anyway thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed! I love reviews and you should leave one!

P.S. Does anyone feel like a dance battle is coming on?


	14. Dancing is Poetry

**Chapter Fourteen-** Dancing is Poetry

~Mimi's Point of View

As they did every year, the leaves in Central Park turned the bright colors as October went by and came into November, bringing with it cold winds off the sea and less and less trips to the racetrack and time outside. But, fall is my favorite time of the year not only because it meant it was just one step closer to Christmas and delicious hot chocolate but, this year, because of the budding romance.

Even though it was near impossible to try to follow Spot Conlon anywhere, even if he did have Abigail-whose usual general loud way of speaking could make you find her in a crowd easily-Charlie, Sarah, Ben, and I haven't given up our heroic quest to follow them. It really has turned into more of a way for us to have an excuse to get out and about nowadays, though, since we are unsuccessful.

It was a late Saturday morning in early November and Charlie, Sarah, Terrier, and I were all lounging around in the Davis' living room, ignoring Ben's dark mumbles about people and their need of knocking. "Where's Fiddle, Terrier?" asked Charlie.

Terrier and her younger sister were common guests at the Davis' just like the three of us (Sarah, Charlie, and I) but it was uncommon to see one without the other. Noelle sat next to Ophie as they snoozed under the kitchen table though and she didn't seem to be too concerned that one of her owners was absent.

"She's getting ready for the Autumn Dance this evening," Terrier replied off-handily, completely unconcerned with this. "She's playing her fiddle."

It took me a second to register what exactly the brown haired girl had said and then I shot up and shouted, "Mon du! J'ai oublie!"

"What?" asked Sarah dryly while Charlie stared at me blankly and Terrier didn't even bother to look up from the blouse she was mending since she was already so used to my outbursts in French.

"Never mind zat," I said waving my hand before saying, "Where'z Abigail? Zpot asked 'er to ze danze!" I declared before thinking of something much more important, "And Johnny azked me!"

"Why is that the second thing you think of?" asked Ben in a grumble before realizing something, "Wait a second, if Abigail's not here and you have no clue where she is…you guy's just let yourself in?" Sometimes Ben's observation skills are truly marvelous.

"I do 'ave a key," I said fishing out the silver key to wave it around before returning it to my pocket.

Terrier, who seemed to have not heard any of the discussion between Ben and I just cut in and said, "Well, where is she?"

"Who?" I asked, momentarily forgetting who exactly we were originally talking about since I had gotten sidetracked with bickering with Ben.

"Abigail," Sarah said, rolling her eyes at me. Oh yeah. Terrier shook her head slowly at me since the look on my face probably said exactly what I was thinking.

"Last I saw her was this morning when she was talking to Racetrack," supplied Charlie, who had thus far been quiet.

"I'm somewhat surprised, Charlie. That's a rather good observation for the morning, with you not being coherent most of the time when it's that early and all," Terrier said, blinking at the younger girl in surprise.

Sarah's face grew into a knowing smile and she said with a wink, "It was because she saw Les this morning."

"Lez?" I acclaimed a little too squeakily, (what can I say? Us French get very excited when it comes to tidbits on relationships) "What 'appened, zen?"

"Guys, focus!" Terrier exclaimed waving her hands so that everyone would pause in whatever they were doing-including Ben and his mumbling about needing a shotgun to make all the newsies get away from his sister but excluding Noelle and Ophie, who were both sleeping still-so as to look at the petite girl in confusion.

When order was achieved, Terrier nodded and said, "Good. Now let's synchronize our watches, find Abigail, get her and Mimi here ready and then we hit the dance!"

"An exzellent idea!" I said happily, loving the idea of getting to get made-over by my friends. (One can only give Abigail so many times before one feels like they need a make-over themselves.)

"Let's go!" cheered Charlie as she grabbed Sarah and pulled her out of the door.

As Sarah exited the apartment I heard her mumble, "Where's Jack when I need him?" which made me giggle a bit and Terrier do the same.

The two of us led the way out of the apartment tailed by Ben and the two dogs, all of them not having anything better to do, while Ben said, "Terrier, there's just one problem. I don't have a watch!"

Strings of tiny bulbs decorated the square, illuminating the musicians-including Fiddle looking her best along with her freshly polished fiddle-colored trees that bordered the perimeter, and all the couples crowding into the vacinity, including Johnny and I followed closely behind by Terrier and Ben, (she had bullied him into escorting her) Jack and Sarah, Charlie and Les, and Ophie and Noelle; all of us trailing Spot and Abigail, trying to be as stealthy as possible. (Although it really wasn't working out.)

As soon as we filed in, Fiddle spotted our big group-no longer including Spot and Abigail since they had disappeared-and she got a wicked look on her face before turning to the other musicians that stood atop the platform with her.

Terrier, having seen her sister, groaned and said, "Oh no. I know that look of Fiddle's, it means a-" just then the beginning of an Irish folk jig began that was more tiring than even the Spanish Panic (which is saying something) "fast song," Terrier finished.

"Care to jig, my lovely?" asked Johnny offering his arm to me with a smile and a wink. I returned his smile and we set off together, parting the sea of dancers and joining into the lively dance. Five dances later-all of them Irish folk songs-I lead Johnny back to the table Terrier and Ben had managed to reserve for our group, to find the two deep in discussion.

"What's the point of dancing?" asked Ben with annoyance clear in his voice, announcing to the whole world that he was a sour sport.

"What's the point? Its' dancing, there's not supposed to be a point," Terrier quite matter-of-factly, and I got the distinct impression that they had been at this for awhile.

"Johnny, tell Terrier that dancing is stupid," Ben said once the two of us took our seats next to them and he seemed to notice us for the first time.

"In the interest of my own well being I'm going to refrain from saying anything," he replied shooting me a grin so that I knew that I was the one he considered to be dangerous to his well being, although I really didn't need to be told.

"Zmart man!"I laughed before turning to Ben and saying, "Now Ben, 'ow can you not like danzing? It iz like poetry, oui?"

Ben snorted at this in disbelief and just at that moment-as if Fiddle was telepathic and knew this would be the right time to change to slow songs-the jig turned into a slow partner dance. I turned briefly to observe this, mentally noting to pull Johnny out there for the next song, and then returned my attention to Ben while saying, "Look at 'ow Jack and Zarah are danzing. Zey move togezer wiz zuch grace and gentlenezz. It iz like reading a zonant, only better."

"That's quite a lovely thought, Mimi," Terrier said with a nod and smile. I replied to this with a nod of appreciation, since this was Terrier we're talking about and its not like she gives out compliments to every average Joe walking down the street.

"What about Charlie and Les over there?" asked Ben with a slight smirk, nodding to the two nine-year-olds. I swiveled my head to see the two dancing just as the older couples were, except they were blushing like mad and both had huge, goofy grins plastered onto their faces.

"Zat, Ben, iz what we call 'young love,' it iz zomezing zat people with 'earts experienze," I informed him with a smile and trying to hold back a giggle.

"Thank you for just implying I have no heart, I appreciate it tremendously," Ben replied with the same dry quality that Abigail used most of the time.

"Hey, where have you two been?" Terrier said out of the blue to what appeared to be the ground, but after leaning around the table I saw she was talking to Noelle and Ophie, who sat together panting happily, both with speghetti sauce on their snouts.

"Isn't that spehetti sauce from Benvolio's, just down the street from here?" asked Johnny, for some reason recognizing the red sauce just by looking at it.

"I don't know," Terrier replied a little puzzled before something else caught her eye and she looked up. "What's going on?" The three of us all turned to see what exactly she was referring to.

In the center of the square, just in front of the musician's platform, stood Spot and Abigail, glaring at each other like I'd only seen Abigail glare at someone once before, (and that was me when I stole the last cookie from the cookie jar) and without moment's delay, I grabbed Johnny's hand while Terrier and Ben scrambled after us and we pushed our way through the crowd to stand on the edge of the cleared ring to better find out what was going on.

"Spot Conlon, since you think you're just so great," Abigail began and I could feel my heart sink. Oh no. I knew this would happen one of these days. Abigail would get so feed up with Spot being so egotistic and there'd be a big fight. But why did it have to be here? "I challenge you to a dance battle!"

What?

"All right!" Fiddle cheered along with the rest of the crowd while a few us-namely Charlie, Sarah, Terrier, Ben, Johnny, and I-stood with glazed over looks and mouths wide open as we watched in shock what exactly a 'dance battle' was.

Fiddle brought her bow to her strings, and using just one string on her fiddle, she started the song with short quick notes before they turned into cords that meshed together and finally the other instruments joined in and it was the Green Dragon, a famous tap-jig dance that allowed dancers to freestyle in between the pattern of dances that was supposed to how dragons in legends are so fiery. (I'm equally surprised I know all of this, since I'm more of a fashion person than dancing but after awhile you do pick things. After all, this was New York…I don't know where my reasoning is going anymore.)

First the two of them mirrored each other as the opening started before Spot stopped as to let Abigail begin to bust out the best she manage, starting with a quick twirl that she stopped with a tap that lead to tap dancing that was truly impressive.

I leaned over to Ben and whispered out of the corner of my mouth-more like shouted since the crowd was cheering so loud, "I zought you were English."

Ben nodded and replied, "We are. I don't know where she learned to do this."

"Maybe she's just drunk?" asked Terrier with a grin. I rolled my eyes at her since we both knew Abigail would be the last person alive to ever drink.

"Or maybe she doesn't know what she's doing?" theorized Johnny, which we all mutually agreed was the case because of the faces Abigail pulled once and awhile that only people close to her-us-could recognize.

After Abigail was done she bounced to the music as Spot began his own tap dancing that included a set of back flips and his own tap dancing set. They went on for this for three more times, each time trying to upstage each other more and more. When the song reached its climax, Spot sprang into a front cartwheel which lead to two more than landed him nose-to-nose with Abigail.

The song finished to the cheers of the crowd, and even I couldn't help cheering even though that was the strangest thing I had ever witnessed. (And that's saying something since I lived in Paris for three years.)

Spot and Abigail stood there, both gasping for breath and staring at each other like they were going to stare down one another until one of them admitted defeat to the 'dance battle.' I rolled my eyes at them since they were both such stubborn, loud mouths. I caught Fiddle's eye after a brief segment of jumping around like an idiot and flapping my arms. (Which caused a loon of concern from Johnny-probably for my sanity-until he figured out what I was doing.)

I nodded at our friend and her boyfriend while widening my eyes to put some emphasis on needing to do something about the two, and she nodded in understanding before bringing her bow to her strings and starting in on a new song that was a lively partner dance.

Not exactly what I was going for, but then again I really wasn't sure what I wanted her to do about it. So, I just shrugged and grabbed Johnny's hand so as to join into the dance and to avoid getting trampled by other couples.

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A/N: I told you there was going to be a dance battle! (:D) I swear, there was supposed to be plot in this chapter but I don't really know what happened to it. (I'm just going to say that it was showing Spot and Abigail's relationship...? Yeah. That's it. Totally.) Anyway, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed! I absolutely adore reviews and if you leave one then I'll update quicker!


	15. Tuning With a Fiddle

**Chapter Fifteen-** Tuning With a Fiddle

~Abigail's Point of View

I have noticed something as of late. It's not something I have ever thought about before and I now appreciate it to no ends since it is an allusive thing to me nowadays. Free weekends. Not having late nights out on dates. No being shown off to Spot's rivals like I was some kind of trophy. No excursions to the racetrack. (Although racing season is almost over.) Just a nice realizing day taking care of chores in the morning before curling up with a book after locking the deadbolt as Mimi barging in with a key is not exactly the most relaxing I can think of.

That was my plan for that Saturday-a week after the Autumn Dance-when I stepped out of my apartment, calling to Ben to take care of Ophie in case he needed to go out. I trotted down the stairs, humming a tune that had no name and thinking about which book I wanted to read when I saw a familiar figure starting up the bottom of the staircase.

I froze in place, thinking that if I ran fast enough I could get back up to my apartment and book it down the fire escape.

"Abigail!" greeted the tall brunette. Too late. I sighed and put a grin on my face, knowing that all plans of relaxing had just gone down the drain.

"Hi, Fiddle! What are you up to?" I replied as I trotted down the remaining stairs to stand next to my friend in the entry hall.

"Well I need help finding a music shop, bakery, tailor shop, and grocer," she replied with a sigh, using the hand that held her fiddle to indicate the empty basket she carried.

"Why don't you do to the Corner Store?" I asked in confusion. That was the store that all the people I knew shopped for food at. It was odd that Fiddle didn't just go there since she lived only a little more than a block from it, but then again Fiddle is an odd person.

"Its closed for the day," Fiddle replied with a shrug before adding, "And I don't know New York well enough yet to not get lost if I look for other shops."

I shook my head and rolled my eyes at her but led the way out of my apartment building with the other girl close on my heels. "Why didn't you ask Mimi to help?" I asked as we stepped out into the sunshine of another November morning.

A look of terror came over my friend's face and after quickly glancing around as if she expected the blonde French girl to pop out of nowhere, Fiddle said in a hushed tone, "She's been badgering me lately about the viola player from the Dance last week. She saw me talking to him and now she's gotten it into her head that I like him."

I glanced at the girl and had to restrain a laugh from the look on her face. Fiddle usually was one of the most confident people I know (besides Mimi that is) and to see her look so dejected was amusing. With as straight of a face as I could manage, I replied, "Don't worry about it, Fiddle. You know you don't like him like that and that's all that counts."

Fiddle nibbled her lower lip before saying, "I suppose you're right."

"I _am_ right," I nodded with a smile before I quickened my pace while saying, "Come on, let's get to Hershel's Bakery, there should be fresh bread about now."

An hour and a half later, Fiddle's basket was filled to the brim with new stockings, skirts, bread, and potatoes. The last thing of the list was the music shop and I had no idea where to find one of those since I wasn't exactly in need of one on a daily basis.

As we came to the corner at the end of street that the grocer sat on, I turned to Fiddle with a guilty look on my face. "I'm sorry, Fiddle, but I have no clue where to find a music shop."

She shrugged and replied, "That's alright, I just need to get some extra strings since mine are getting a little worn. Do you think Ben would know where to find one?"

I bit my lip and replied, "Probably but its more than an hour walk back to my place from here and by the time we get there, Ben will be out on his afternoon route." Fiddle's face fell in disappointment as she gazed at her fiddle strings woefully.

"'Eyya goils," said a voice from behind us and I turned to see Racetrack standing there with a stack of newspapers under his right arm and another in his left. "Wha brings two lovely dames to me sellin' spot?"

I rolled my eyes at him and silently cursed fate that the two of us would just _happen_ to find ourselves standing in Race's selling spot. Fiddle, one the other hand, seemed to have hatched a plan and said, "We're actually in need of some assistance, could you help?"

"Shouh," he replied with a nod before saying, "As long as ya buy a pape." He stuck the newspaper under our noses and I read the headline, which was so amazingly unremarkable that I forgot it the moment I took my eyes off of it.

"Sure," Fiddle agreed readily, digging out a penny in exchange for the paper, which she stuck into her already bursting basket.

I shook my head at the other girl and was about to tell her not to encourage the scheming Italian when she cut me off and said, "Could you take us to the nearest music shop?"

Racetrack blinked in surprise before he shrugged and said, "Dat's no problem." And so the three of us set off. Fiddle reminded me that I could go on home if I wanted but I didn't trust Race alone with her because I always felt like he was going to try to make a bet with any innocent bystander that happens to be in his line of betting the first chance he gets.

"So's wha's ya name?" asked Race as we walked along and I mentally rolled my eyes at both of them; they didn't know each others names and yet they had made a deal with each other.

"I'm Eve Carter, but just call me Fiddle," the taller brunette told the Italian.

"Nice ta meet ya Fiddle, I'se Racetrack Higgins," he replied with a grin. Fiddle paused in walking a moment to set down her basket, tug out her bow from where it was stuck in her sash before she used it to sing out a lively tune that sounded vaguely Italian from her fiddle's strings.

"'Ey, you'se pretty good," Race complimented before he added, "Didn't ya play at the Autumn Dance last week?"

"You were there?" I asked, slightly shocked since I would have thought for sure that Race would have come to talk to me or otherwise gloat in his own little Racetrack way that he had set Spot and I up.

"Yeah, I'se was," he nodded.

"On second thought, I'm not surprised," I mumbled.

Race just ignored me and turned back to Fiddle, saying, "Youse were real good playin' dere."

"Well, thank you," Fiddle said and for the first time I actually believed that she and Terrier where from a farm, because she blushed just like a country lady.

"Hea we are," Racetrack said, indicating the little shop we had stopped in front of. Gleaming instruments sat in the window and with a little shout of glee, Fiddle hurried inside.

"We'll wait out here," I called after her. I wasn't sure she heard or not, but I shrugged, knowing she'd be out sooner or later. I rounded on Race and stuck a finger in front of his face before saying, "I know what you're thinking so stop thinking it."

A completely innocent look came over his face and he said, "I'se don't know what youse are tawkin' about."

I sighed and crossed my arms, giving him a hard look before saying, "You're going to bet against poor Fiddle and then set her up with some newsie. Like you did to me."

Racetrack gave me a slight grin before returning back to his innocent face, "I have no idea wha youse are tawkin' about." I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Admit it, you were thinking about it," I said giving him a scowl, which was hard to do with a raised eyebrow.

"Well," Race began, "Nowse dat you mention it…" he trailed off before laughing at the look on my face-which I'm sure was a cross between furious and suspicious.

"I'm jus messin wid youse," he said holding up his hands before adding, "I'se won't do anyting to Fiddle." I gave him a wearily look but decided that was about as it was going to get with him. So I just nodded that this was good enough.

Fiddle came out a few seconds later with a big grin on her face and looking like she was a kid that just came out of candy shop and got to stuff her pockets with any kind of sweets she wanted.

"Wells, my lovely new friend, and Abigail," Race said as we set off back the way we came, while I ignored his snide at me since he just implied I was the extreme opposite of lovely in his own Racetrack-way, "Wha do youse say ta a lunch at Tibby's wid me?"

"Don't you have newspapers to sell?" I asked a little grumpily.

"I can just sell da ones back dat I didn't sell," Race replied with a shrug.

"Could we please, Abigail?" Fiddle asked like she was a little child even though she was perfectly old enough to go alone, "I don't want to go without you."

I sighed when I was faced with Fiddle's pleading face-which was about as pitiful as when Charlie put on her own begging face-and said, "Alright, fine."

"Yeah!" Fiddle cheered and then we all set off to Tibby's. Me, still in a grumpy mood until I got a taste of the hot dogs at the restaurant which made it near impossible to be mad at anyone-even the ever irritating Racetrack-and Fiddle, attracting quite a crowd of adoring fans of newsies when she played tune after song on her new fiddle strings.

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A/N: I know, I know: in the movie they didn't get to sell back their papers (or at least nothing was mentioned about it) but that's how it was in the real strike so I figured I could slide with it. (:D) Anyway, I love Race and Abigail's banters, so fun to write...Well, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and thanks for reading! (I adore you for it, as creepy as that sounds) And you should leave a review telling me what you thought! Predictions, thoughts, speculations, questions? Write it and it'll make my day and make me update faster! (I promise, plot will happen in the next chapter!)


	16. Time Out, Truth Out

**Chapter Sixteen-** Time Out, Truth Out

~Abigail's Point of View

"I can't believe it," I said as Terrier pinned my hair into a fancy bun that seemed to held up by sheer force of will and the tiny glass beads that she braided into my hair. I glanced up at her through the mirror to see a smile spread onto the concentrated look on her face. "It's been two months already."

"Time does fly zhen one iz in love," Mimi said a little peevishly from across the room where she was trying to decide what to have me wear.

It had been exactly two months since Spot first asked me to be his girl. It seemed to have gone by fast, with nights out and lazy afternoons spent together, it was a bit of a surprise too how it flew by. I still couldn't say I was absolutely smitten with him, but I sure liked the way he talks because a conversation is never dull, and his sense of humor, and even that scheming smirk. I would never admit it, but his kisses weren't that bad either.

I rolled my eyes at the Frenchwoman and said, "Oh yes, totally head-over-heels."

"Start planning the wedding! She admitted it!" Sarah declared as she breezed into the living room, carrying a new selection of sashes.

"Weddings? I love weddings!" Charlie chirped, coming into the conversation just at the mention of that word, pulling herself out of her own little world of make-up.

"Yes, drinks all around," I told them dryly.

Fiddle cut off in her quiet practice session on her fiddle from her perch on the couch and said, "I'm playing at your wedding." It wasn't a request either.

I puffed out air as Terrier declared my hair done and Mimi and Sarah herded me off the stool so as to dress me in a midnight blue gown that sat loose and elegant on me with its had short, loose sleeves, and v-neck along with a silver sash, that sat snug at the waist. Mimi took off her own long silver chain that she looped three times around my neck, each cord shorter than the last.

Sarah squished my feet into silver flats and, making sure not to let me get a look at myself in the mirror, Charlie did my make-up using Medda's borrowed powders. "There! Done," the little brown haired girl chirped before taking me by the hand and leading me over to the mirror.

I gasped at my reflection before looking around at my friends and offering my arms to them. I didn't look like me anymore. I looked like an elegant woman, something that I had never even thought of being. They all grinned and then proceeded to squish me in a hug that they all broke from after a few moments so as to worriedly check that my appearance wasn't ruined.

"You look positively lovely," Terrier said with a grin.

"Oh courze zhe doez, I made ze drezz," Mimi said with a nod like this explained everything. Terrier rolled her eyes while the others giggled and I just smiled and slowly shook my head.

"Youse look great," said Spot, who I barely recognized in a new pair of black trousers, a white shirt, along with a black waistcoat, as he took my hand to lead me down the stairs and to the streets below.

"Thanks," I replied, "I barely recognized you."

He raised an eyebrow at me, silently asking me if this was a good thing. But I just smiled at him and he leaned over and gave me a peck on the cheek. I'm still not used to the kind of shock that comes with Spot's kisses and I don't know if I ever will be.

"Anyway, me beautiful dame," he said as we breathed in the night air and set off down the street together, "I'se 'ope ya up ta some fancy food." And with that he led me to the fanciest restaurant in all of Manhattan, Le Chat Heureux, and I decided not to ask how he managed to get reservations or even pay for it.

After the host showed the two of us to our table, Spot held out my chair for me and slid it in once I had gotten over the brief shock of Spot being such a gentlemen and actually sat down. We browsed the menu silently-once and awhile commenting on the food choices-and I mentally noted to get some French lessons from Mimi first chance I got, since most of the dish names were in French. Spot sat aside his menu, seeming to have decided what he wanted already.

He waited patiently-a surprise since this was _Spot Conlon_ we where talking about-for me to do the same and when he did he gave me a smile and said, "I can't believe youse have been me goil for two months now, and ta tink if it weren't fouh dat bet wid Race…"

He trailed off, and a horrified look came over his face that many a person wore when they said something they shouldn't have said. My eyebrows knitted together and I asked, "What bet Spot?"

"Um, nuttin'," he said hurriedly.

I knew it wasn't nothing. It was just one of those things you know; like when you know who stole the last cookie from the cookie jar. I didn't what this was exactly-I'm not telepathic, despite popular belief-but I knew something was up.

"Spot," I said flatly. If it came down to a battle of wills, I would probably win but sometimes Spot temper gets short and he becomes violent (I have first hand knowledge of this when there was some deal with one of his newsies being a 'scabber' and wouldn't admit it) and I was about as good in a fight as Ben was at being hospitable.

"It's nuttin'," He said a little more firmly.

"Spot," I said, but he just averted his eyes. I sighed and said, "You know, I'm not going to drop this until you tell me."

He gave me a hard look before he said quickly, "Race made a bet that I couldn't kiss a goil I neva met befouh on me foist date wid 'er." I blinked, knowing already what was coming. "I won dat bet."

I stared at him. That must be why Race set me up with Spot for our bet but that still didn't explain something else, "Then why did you ask me to be your girl?"

Spot cleared his throat before saying even more quickly than before, "Wells, I'se neva had a goil fouh more den two weeks befouh ya and Race bet me dat I couldn't stay wid one fouh more den two months. O' course ya are da goil that I went with."

That was when I felt a dull and growing anger boiling up in my stomach. I slammed my hand against the table, making the silverware clatter together. I stared down at my midnight blue lap before taking a deep breath, sliding my chair back, and making my way as calmly as possible out of the restaurant, not looking back at him since I didn't want to see what he looked like but also afraid to see what expression he wore; afraid to see a look of relief.

To think I actually was beginning to like him! Terrier has free reign to beat him up whenever she wants.

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A/N: Aha! I found the plot! (It really was never lost...yeah, I don't believe that either.) Anyway, intense chapter, oui? And I hoped you enjoyed! Thanks for reading and pretty please (with sugar on top) leave a review!


	17. Never Ever

**Chapter Seventeen- **Never Ever

~Mimi's Point of View

I just couldn't figure it out. One second Abigail is all blushes and giggles and next she's gloomy and moody. I knew something happened between her and Spot on their date Saturday night, but she absolutely refused to talk about.

She didn't wait for us anymore in the morning; Charlie, Fiddle, Terrier, and I. Sometimes we see her way off down the street, walking like all chaos would be unleashed unto the earth if she didn't get to work that very second. I worry about her; she didn't talk at work, but I knew she was thinking deep and hard-which, of course, is a dangerous pass time. Not even my random outbursts of 'Sew it off girls!' would get her to perk up. All it got was nasty look from the others, who had all nicked themselves from being startled.

It was Thursday, and it was as it had been the whole week; not a peep out of her. "Do you know what happened yet?" asked Charlie watching Abigail down the street as we waited for the two Carter sisters to show up.

"No, I azked Johnny and Union, but zey don't know anyzing eizer," I said with a shake of my head. I thought for sure Johnny might know something from Racetrack because he was the one that had set the two up and that Union might know something from being Spot's second-in-command, but both had no clue what was going on, although, really, what did I expect? They were, after all, boys and boys are always clueless.

Charlie sighed unhappily just as Fiddle and Terrier appeared. Fiddle took one look at the sad little girl and began to sing, (which was surprising to say the least) "Cheer up, Charlie! Don't be so sad. Cheer up, Charlie! Life ain't so bad."

"Ugh, not that song," Terrier mumbled under her breath, which caused Fiddle to glare at her sister but she did stop her song. "In any case," Terrier said, turning her attention to Charlie, "You _should_ cheer up, didn't Les ask you to the Christmas Eve party with him?"

"Qui?" I said in surprise, momentarily lapsing into French before saying, "What?"

"Charlie was asked by Les to the Christmas Eve party at Medda's," Fiddle said with a nod of confirmation, "Which reminds me, Sarah asked us to help plan for that."

"Well, you have the music covered," Charlie pointed out, cheered from the thought of her beau while blushing like mad. I giggled at the little girl as we reached the factory and we all filed in, briefly taking time to wave at Mrs. Grimpleton so she would know that we've arrived for another day of work.

I took my seat next to Abigail, who was beginning to thread her machine in an violent manner. Taking the opportunity to talk to her before others arrived and the drone of machines would eliminate any chance of interrogating her, I asked, "Abigail, what'z wrong?"

"I don't want to talk about it, Mimi," she replied not even bothering to look at me.

"I zink you need to zough," I said gently, "I'm worried about you. You aren't yourzelf. I know zomething 'appened between you and Zpot. Did you two break up?"

Abigail's head snapped up and she said, "I never want to hear the name of that good for nothing, son of a….uh! Don't mention him!" She turned back to her machine in frustration and began to work on the cuff of a sleeve furiously,

"I'll take zat az a yez," I mumbled under my breath.

When the lunch break bell dinged throughout the factory, everyone flipped off their machines for the better part of the coming hour and pulled out their lunches or hurried off to their favorite restaurants before the lunch crowd beat them to it.

Abigail disappeared to wherever she has been disappearing to for the past few days while the four of us made for the usual wall outside the factory and made ourselves comfortable. "What did she say?" asked Terrier, who had witnessed Abigail's outburst that morning but was too far away to hear it. This, I found, was truly astonishing since I swear she declared herself loud enough to wake my dead grandparents back in France.

Charlie glanced at me, she too heard what our friend had to say, but she left the honor of recounting it all to me. "I azked 'er if zhe broke up wiz Zpot and zhe zaid zat zhe never wanted to 'ear hiz name ever again, zo I took it az a yez."

"We already knew that, didn't we?" asked Terrier quite practically since we had assumed this much, it was just this declaration from Abigail, herself, that confirmed the fact.

"Well it's nice to know for sure," Charlie said with a slight nod, not wanting me to feel like my morning's work was wasted. I grinned at her; although she didn't need to do that, it was nice of her to think of me.

"The weird thing is," Fiddle said thoughtfully after a moment's pause, "Is that she's so upset. I didn't think she liked him _that_ much."

The rest of us nodded in agreement with this before Terrier said, "That's right. But I think she did like him, deep down. Although, I'm not quite sure he liked her back."

"That'z juzt zilly," I said with a shake of my head, "Why would he want to go out wiz 'er if 'e didn't like 'er?"

"Good point," said Fiddle with a nod after she swallowed a bit of her turkey sandwich.

"Zey zeemed fine too, Abigail never mention a conflicted between ze two," I pointed out, "Why would zay zuddenly break up?"

"Exactly," Fiddle said before her sister cut her off.

"Something smells fishy," the shorter sister said, "Foul play is afoot."

"'Ave you been reading zose Zherlock 'Olmez bookz again?" I asked dryly which caused Charlie and Fiddle to giggle.

Terrier just shook her head at us and mumbled, "Well, sorry if I'm trying to figure this out," but soon she was laughing too, since it felt good to laugh after trying to figure something out so sad for the better half of the past four days. Then the bell rang signaling the end of the lunch hour, making the four of us book it back into the factory to find Abigail already at her machine and beginning to set to work where she left off before lunch.

"'Ello Abigail!" I greeted with a grin. She didn't show any signs of responding. I just shook my head at her before a thought occurred to me. Racetrack was the one that set Abigail and Spot up on their first date and I knew that he wanted to get them together but I also got the distinct impression that his matchmaking had something to do with the current state of Abigail.

"'Ave you zeen Racetrack lately?" I asked off handily as I slowly placed the skirt I had been working on back the machine's need and taking my own sweet time to adjust it before switching on my machine.

Abigail stiffened before she said, "I'm never ever going to talk to him again so what's it matter what he last said? Same goes with…_that boy_." She spat out the words and I blinked at this. I have never seen Abigail so angry. Or maybe she was just hurt?

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A/N: I dislike writing gloomy Abigail, she's way too gloomy. (I love stating the obvious :D) Anyway, thanks for reading this chapter and I hope you enjoyed! Please leave a review because then you might cheer up Abigail and make her not so gloomy.


	18. The Acquiring of a Heart

**Chapter Eighteen- **The Acquiring Of A Heart

~Racetrack's Point of View

I plodded down the street, pulling my coat tight around me and trying to keep out the late autumn wind's icy bite as best I could. For the past few days, I haven't been feeling too well. Kloppman says it's not a fever or any other kind of disease along those lines, since he was the resident doctor to us newsies, sort of, and I have been feeling really sad too.

It wasn't that I wasn't selling well or that I was losing all my bets, because that was quite to the contrary, really. I was selling my papers in record time-it seemed all the dames liked to coo over a depressed looking newsie-and it felt like I had won all my bets lately. It was definitely something else, but what I couldn't think of.

Glancing around, I saw Mush and Blink trotting down the street towards me, both were horsing around with throwing punches at one another while the other easily ducked out of the way. I grinned at them but quickly dropped it since it felt weird on my face.

When they saw me, Mush abruptly stopped which allowed Blink to land a blow on his arm. Mush scowled at the other boy, who raised his arms and stepped away. The dark haired boy just rolled his eyes before he trotted over to me with the other newsie on his heels.

"'Ey Race. Wha's da matta wid ya?" asked Mush with his usual smile on his face, but I refused to let that cheer me. I wanted to know what was going on and if I was cheered up, I'd just forget it and then I'd never get to know, at least that was my reasoning for this.

"I dunno," I said truthfully with a shrug. "Just feelin' kinda down lately."

"Wells, dat's no good," Blink said with a shake of his head, "If dat keeps up den Christmas will be miserable and ya have ta wait anudda yea befouh you get to celebrate it again."

I blinked at Blink (the irony) and momentarily remembered that it _was_ actually almost Christmas-which was surprising since it was just next month and usually by now I was getting all antsy for it to come. "I forga awl abou it," I said, a little awed with myself.

A shocked expression came over Blink's face which was mirrored on Mush's, and then the darker haired boy said in the most serious voice I had ever heard him us, "Dis is serious, Race. We'se need ta fix dis problem quick."

"Dat's the problem, boys," I said with a shrug, "I don't know wha da problem is."

"Wells 'ow abou we go ta Tibby's and tawk abou it ova lunch?" suggested Blink after his stomach loudly complained about its lack of food. And, without even waiting for my answer-I got the feeling they would've just dragged me along even if I had said 'no'-we were off to Tibby's.

Ten minutes later, we slid into our usual booth and were handed our menus although we had memorized them long ago. "So's," Mush said, not wasting any time in getting down to the matter, "Since when's did ya begin ta feels liok 'ow ya do now?"

"I dunno," I said before really thinking about it. The first time I noticed it was Monday morning, I was selling the morning paper when I saw some factory workers hurry past on their way to work. I didn't recognize any of the girls but I just started to feel real bad. I explained as much to the other boys.

Blink had a thoughtful look on his face and he asked, "Well's, did sometin' happen on Sunday?"

"I jus told ya dat I started ta feel bad on Monday, ya bummah!" I replied a little irritably since it felt extremely awkward talking about my feelings like this. (Now I know how bad Union had it trying to give therapy sessions to Spot on a weekly basis.)

"Jus answa da queshion," Mush said rolling his eyes at me, like I was being way too dramatic about every little thing.

"Wells," I said after a moment, "I'se went ta choich, and sold me papes, and went ta Tibby's, and den-" I cut myself off abruptly as I realized something. At lunch on Sunday I had found out that Spot and Abigail had split because she had found out about Spot's and my bet. Was I like this because my matchmaking had gone to waste? ('Cause I did win the bet, after all, Spot didn't last the full two months, he was three hours off.)

"Ca ta sha?" prompted Mush after I sat there for a few moments in silence. I glared at him before shrugging. There really was no point at getting mad at Mush, he didn't care a copper penny either way.  
"Yeah, wells at Tibby's ya rememba dat Union told us awl dat Abigail and Spot split?" I asked a little sheepishly. I had told them about my first bet with Spot, and with Abigail, but I hadn't told them about betting Spot that he couldn't stay with a girl for two months and that girl happening to be Abigail.  
"Yeah, shouh," Blink said with a shrug since it was clear Mush wasn't going to say anything since he had gone stiff at the mention of his old girlfriend. "Wha abou it?"

"Wells, I kinda made a bet wid Spot dat he couldn't go out wid a goil fouh more den two months and dat goil was Abigail. I 'ad hoped dat they'd end up likin' each udda."

"But they didn't?" Blink supplied sympathetically. His face said it all; he had guessed I was up to something like this. And frankly I wasn't surprised. It was hard to find a time when Blink _was_ surprised about anything because he just seems to know everything before anyone else does; even the people involved in whatever he knows about.

"Na wai a minute," Mush cut in before I could say anything, "Youse tried ta play matchmaka wid _Spot Conlon _and _Abigail Davis?_" The way he said that girl's name makes me wonder which one was the King of Brooklyn and the factory girl. "Wha was ya tinkin', Race?"  
"I was tinkin' it was a good idea," I shot back at him with a glare. I know what I did was stupid and I really didn't need Mush reminding me just that instant.

"Is dat da only unusual ting ya can tink of?" asked Blink after a pause of Mush and I staring each other down.

"Yea," I nodded before saying, "Do ya tink I've been feelin' down cause I didn't succeed wid me matchmakin'? I'se mean, I did put a lotta effort in ta it."

Blink and Mush exchanged amused glances at that. Blink just shook his head and said, "I don't tink dat's it, Race."

"Wells, wha is it?" I asked.

Blink just ignored me and said, "Wells, it seems-contrary ta popula belief-dat Racetrack Higgins does indeed 'ave a heart."

Mush laughed at this and Blink couldn't help but crack a smile himself. Rather than insulted-I know, big surprise-I was just puzzled by them and asked, "Wha do ya mean?"

The darker haired boy shook his head and said, "Race, ya's feel guilty."

"Fouh wha?" I asked, still puzzled.

"Fouh bettin' and matchmakin' liok youse did," Blink clarified.

I sat there, mystified. Guilt? Sure, I've heard of it, but I've never actually felt it before. Ever since I was a little kid, I've been looking out for myself since my Ma always was busy with my younger siblings and my older siblings were equally busy with the younger siblings. Being independent like I was really didn't go hand-in-hand with guilt, so I guess I never experienced it.

"Bu dat doesn't make sense," I reasoned, "Shouh, I may feel guilt, bu why would I'se? Its na like I'se give a hoot fouh eitha Spot or Abigail."

"Wells, I'se tinkin' you'se give a hoot in dat ya scared stiff if Spot Conlon 'as his cane out and lookin' at you'se wid dat schemin' look of 'is, but udda den dat, I agree," Mush nodded while restraining a grin.

Blink picked up right after our other friend, like they had this pre-planned or something, "Bu Abigail? I'se dunno, Race. You'se seem ta liok ta tawk ta 'er."

I frowned at both of them, since they were both giving me a knowing grin, and said, "I'se don't _liok _'er, if dats wha youse two are implin.'"

Blink raised his hands defensively and said, "Neva said youse did." Then him and Mush exchanged looks and they didn't have to say it, because they were sure thinking it. I fro

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A/N: Yay for therapy sessions! I hope you enjoyed this chapter and thanks for reading it! Leave a review telling me what you think, since I love to hear what you have to say!


	19. Coffee and Strings

**Chapter Nineteen-** Coffee and Strings

~Abigail's Point of View

I don't like it. I don't like this sad and moody feeling. I'm making my friends worry about me, making Ben try to take care of me-which isn't a good idea because he couldn't cook and not burn whatever it was he was cooking to save his life. Whenever I tried to smile and think about things that didn't involve my absolute loathing of Spot Conlon, Racetrack Higgins, and every other newsie _ever_, I would just think about it again and end up back to how I started.

The thing is, is that I don't really understand why I'm so mad about it, exactly. It's not like I saw a future with Spot Conlon. Sure, I thought he was a real nice guy when he wanted to be and that he was fun to talk with. His newsies were a lively group that always referred to me as 'Miss' and always seemed to be a little shocked that I would be so pert with their boss and all I got for it was a smirk; it made me laugh. But other than that, I wasn't too terribly sure I liked him at all.

Then there was Racetrack. He seems to always now how to wind me up and get my insides boiling so that I want to ring his neck or at least slap him a few times. It was really his fault for all this. He was the one that betted with me that first time-even though I did make a choice in accepting it-and then he set up that first date with Spot and I because of another bet. In the end, he used his betting to make us go out for two months and for what reason, I still couldn't figure out.

With a sigh as I reasoned through all these things again, I leaned back on my stool and stared down at the lace I had just sewed onto the collar of another canary yellow dress. I needed some serious pick-me-up, maybe an abnormally large mug of coffee? I flipped off my machine early for the day, very early since it wasn't even lunch yet, and shuffled out of the factory, waving to Mrs. Grimpleton and faking a cough into my hand to pantomime that I was sick.

I had never taken a sick day or any other kind of time off from work, so Mrs. Grimpleton just frowned at me from through the doorway to her office but she didn't try to stop me. I continued my shuffle out of the factory and wondered onto the street, letting my feet carry me wherever they pleased as I allowed myself to burry myself in my thoughts.

Only when I accidently dumped into someone and mumbled a quick, "Sorry," did I come out my thoughts. I took a few paces around the person I dumped into and glancing around; I saw I was in a bustling square with the statue of a man in an elegant chair in the center of it all. Many newsies wondered around the statue or meandered out of a pair of large gates. Then I saw the giant golden doors that led to the World offices that every good Manhattan dweller could recognize on the drop of a dime.

I sighed and finally admitted it to myself that I was completely lost even if I did know I was by the World. Then the person I had bumped into, who I hadn't noticed was still standing where I had bumped into him, came over and said, "Abigail?"

Blinking up into the brown eyes and smile on a familiar face, I asked, "Mush?"

"Ey, 'ow ya doin'?" he asked with a friendly grin.

"Um…fine," I replied.

He frowned at that he gave me a quizzical look. "Tha doesn't sound liok 'fine' ta me," Mush said matter-of-factly. It was odd that he was being so friendly after our last encounter at Medda's back in September, when we both were practically staring daggers at each other.

"I'm really fine, Mush," I said forcing a smile onto my face before saying, "Well, it was nice to see you but I'm kind of in a hurry, so I'll see you later."

"Now wait," he said sticking his arm to catch me as I started off, "Foist of awl, youse are headed da wrong way; youse headed fouh Staten. And second of awl, something tells me youse need a cup a coffee an' an ear ta listen ta youse."

The intuition of Mush Meyers is never falling it would seem. I sighed and thought it over rapidly as I nibbled my lip. What did I have to loose? "Alright."

Mush grinned and he led me to Tibby's, which was only a few blocks away, and into an extremely quiet and empty restaurant; it seems all the newsies where still out selling all their papers. (It would make sense since it's only ten thirty.) "Hey, Mush!" called a waiter with smile, "What can I get you?"

"Just two coffees for me and my friend here," the boy replied before he ushered me over to a booth, which seemed to be his usual place to dine. After we were both settled, he said, "Nowse tell me wha's wrong."

"Not wasting any time getting down to business?" I asked with a slight laugh.

"Neva," he replied before he added, "Although dere is sometin' I wanted ta ask ya. Race says dat youse tink I broke up wid you and I tink the udda way around. Wha do you tink happened?"

I paused in thought as the memory came back to me. "You came up to me after work back three years ago and said that we shouldn't go out, quite rudely really," I said as lightly as I could since I didn't want to show it bothered me that much.

The look of Mush's face was completely shocked and then he said, "I meant we'se shouldn't go out dat night. I was 'avn a real bad day dat day, didn't sell any of me papes and awl. I'se sorry ya thought I meant neva. When I saw da day afta I tol ya dat, you'se gave me such a look dat I taught youse 'ad broken up wid me."

I blinked at this, and it felt like a weight that I'd been baring for awhile just lifted from my shoulders. I smiled a bit and said, "Well, that explains a lot."

He returned my grin and said, "I'se 'ope we'se could be friends now?"

"Sure," I nodded. Mush was always nice to talk to, not to mention that he gave good advice. The waiter appeared then and set our coffee in front of us.

"Tanks Wally," Mush thanked the waiter before turning his attention back to me, "Nowse, wha is on ya mind? Docta Mush is hea ta listen."

Before I could reply, the tinkling of the bell over the door interrupted me and I glanced over to see Fiddle wonder in. She glanced around before catching sight of me and hurrying over. "Abigail! I knew you'd be here!"

"Fiddle? How'd you find me?" I asked, shocked to say the least that the brunette had somehow magically known I was here.

She shrugged and said, "The intuition of Fiddle Carter is never failing!" she paused as I raised an eyebrow at her and she finally sighed and said, "Fine, I _may_ have stalked you just a _little."_

I scowled at her but before I could say anything, I was interrupted by Mush, who said, "'Eyya, Ms. Fiddle. How are ya doin'?"

"Hello…Mush?" greeted Fiddle, taking a wild guess at his name. I remembered her being bombarded with names a week ago when we had spent a very annoying lunch hour with Racetrack. (Truth be told, I did have a good time although I'd never admit it to anyone) Mush nodded to her, telling she did get his name right.

"Why'se don't ya sit down? Maybe youse can 'elp Abigail," Mush said patting the space next to him on his side of the booth. She slid in with a nod before turning her attention to me after Wally, who magically appeared at our table, asked for her order.

"Nowse, Abigail, let's hea it," Mush prompted. I glanced at Fiddle nervously. I trusted her with my life but I didn't know if I should tell any of my friends. They always felt like they needed to protect me and I didn't want them worrying about me even more than they already were.

But really, getting things sorted out with Mush felt like getting to take a break from sewing after trying to fill an order of one hundred dresses in one day, which, of course, felt like pure relief. So I sighed and said, "Well, as both of you probably know, Spot and I broke up…" and I told them all that had happened. From my first bet with Racetrack all the way to our last date on Saturday and what had come to light from it.

"Abigail," Fiddle said. She made my name sound like the saddest song in the whole world. She leaned across the table to squeeze my hand before making way for her own coffee cup as Wally set it down. "Thanks," she told him before turning her attention back to me, "Why didn't you tell us?"

I shrugged and replied, "I don't really know. I don't think I even liked Spot all that much but I just felt hurt, you know?"

Mush nodded in understanding before Fiddle said, "I know what you mean. When I was a little girl, I really liked this boy that lived in town. We 'went out' for awhile, even though it wasn't anything other than occasionally sharing our peanut butter sandwiches since we _were_ five years old, but then I found out he only liked me because he wanted to ride my family's horse. It hurt, even though I was only five."

I couldn't help it, I giggled at Fiddle's story, and she grinned in response. Mush chuckled a bit at it and after I paused to take a sip of coffee, he said, "Well, I'se think ya should forgive dem."

"What?" I said, nearly choking on my coffee. I forced myself to swallow before asking, "I don't see how you figure that. They used me in their little bet."

Mush frowned a bit at this and told me, "Bu Race only did it 'cause he thought dat ya and Spot would be good ta getta."

"And Spot…well I can't think of any reason he could have done it other than to prove Race wrong," Fiddle said with a little frown before saying, "But you should forgive him anyway, because you're above holding grudges."

I chuckled a bit at the first part of Fiddle's little monologue but then fell silent. Mush was right, first of all; Race was just trying to have two people become a happy couple, even though it did lead to this mess. And Spot, well I really shouldn't hold a grudge against him not only for Fiddle's reasoning but because it wasn't a good idea to be mad at the King of Brooklyn, that much I figured out from my two-month relationship with him.

"I guess you guys are right," I said with a nod after a brief pause of thought.

"We _are _right," Fiddle corrected, much like I did a week ago.

Mush laughed at that while I just rolled my eyes at them before a thought occurred to me and I said, "Fiddle, don't tell the others about this. I don't want them worrying even more than they already were about me.

Fiddle gave me a curious look but she nodded in agreement anyway.

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A/N: I blame Marching Band for the lack of update on Thursday for this story. Anyway, hurray for more therapy sessions (I think everyone is in need of one right now) and Abigail getting out of 'gloomy Abigail' mood! Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed! I love a review because I love hearing about what you think! (a.k.a. Leave a review please!)


	20. Talking Tough

**Chapter Twenty-** Talking Tough

~Mimi's Point of View

"So why didn't we just get Ben to send a message for us?" asked Terrier a little warily as we all pulled our coats tighter around ourselves and continued the long trek across the Brooklyn Bridge.

"Becauze, one: We need to get ze truth ztraight from ziz boy and two: Ben would probably juzt get beaten up," I replied rolling my eyes at the shorter girl. Terrier, Charlie, and I were making the long walk across the Brooklyn Bridge to go see the infamous King of Brooklyn himself and to get some answers from him. Fiddle opted out of the journey, saying that she had to practice her fiddle although it was clear to the rest of us that she just didn't want to walk as far as it took to get to Brooklyn.

"I guess that's true," Charlie said with a shrug.

"Unlike you two, I have perfect faith that Ben could get the message delivered," Terrier said. We looked at her, both wearing the 'you actually believe that?' look before she let out a laugh and said, "Yeah, who am I kidding?"

That made us two burst into giggles but then we stepped off the Brooklyn Bridge and the three of us fell silent. We found ourselves walking in a tighter clump as we all kept a weary eye out. "Dangerouz waterz," I said quite seriously in my 'old sailor' accent.

Terrier glanced at me and rolled her eyes, letting me know my attempt to lighten the mood was unappreciated. Charlie didn't seem to notice because she was clinging so tightly to my arm that I was loosing circulation to my hand. "Charlie, I'd like to feel my hand, oui?"

She glanced up at me but only barely loosened her hold. I sighed and lengthened my strides so as not to look cowardly, like Charlie, or like I was going to knock out someone's lights if they looked at us funny, like Terrier.

When we stepped onto the docks, the boys sitting around on it fell silent, and the ones that kept talking were soon hushed. I passed them, with my head held high and proud, heading straight for a familiar blond boy sitting on a single crate with a journal cradled in his hands.

He glanced up, most likely due to the sudden silence, and when he caught sight of the three of us, the expression on my cousin's face was priceless. He raised an eyebrow and let his mouth hang in disbelief. I gave him a grin and said, when we were in speaking distance, "'Ello Union! 'Ow are you doing?"

"Mimi, wha are youse doin' hea?" the blond boy asked, his green eyes taking in the three of us before settling on me.

"Came to zpeak wiz Zpot Conlon," I replied and grinning at the look on Union's face when he heard this.

He shook his head, as if to clear it, before saying, "Awlrigh, I'll go ask 'im if he wants ta see youse. Bu I ain't promisin' anyting." And with that he rose, stuffed his journal in the inside of his navy jacket before going down the dock a ways and disappearing under a beam and jumping onto another dock that was hidden from view thanks to a mound of crates.

"Who was that?" whispered Terrier to me, since we still were surrounded by a platoon of newsies.

"Union, my cousin," I replied out of the corner of my mouth. "And Zpot'z zecond in command."

"You never mentioned him before, Mimi," Charlie stated a little too loud for my liking.

"Yez, well," I replied still in my lowered voice, "I don't really 'ave a reason for zat." Charlie shrugged and gave me a weak smile from her position still attached to my arm. I couldn't help grinning back.

The returning footsteps of Union made me look up. He nodded and jerked his head the way he came. I nodded in response before leading the other two towards the entrance to Spot's 'throne room.' Just as I passed him, Union said so only the three of us could hear, "Be careful."

"We will," I reassured him before reaching the beam and ducking under, jumping the short distance down to the other dock. Charlie and Terrier followed close behind. We stood there looking around before I glanced up to see Spot Conlon, red suspenders, gray cabbie, black cane, and all looking down at us with interest.

"Well, well, well, if it ain't da li'l French goil and 'er ta friends," Spot said as he easily jumped down from his high perch on top of his throne of crates.

"We have names you know, and they are Charlie, Mimi, and Terrier," said the short brown haired girl, pointing at each of us while introducing us-making Charlie flinch a bit when pointed to.

"Dat's nice," Spot replied dryly before turning to look at me and saying, "So's wha do youse want, dowl face?"

I could see Terrier scowl out of the corner of my eye, but I just put on a fake smile and said, "Actually, we're 'ere to azk you a question."

"Oh yeah, and wha would dat be?" asked Spot with an amused smile on his face.

"We want to know what 'appened between you and Abigail," I replied.

Spot's whole face morphed from one of amusement to a scowl and he asked a little sourly, "Did Race put ya up ta dis, 'cause if he did den you can tell 'im dat if 'e wants ta gloat den he bettah come do it 'imself."

"I'm sure I have no clue what you're talking about," Terrier said dryly.

The boy rolled his eyes at us, "Shouh act liok youse don't know 'bou da bet ba tween me and Race."

"What bet?" I cut in before Terrier could say something that might offend Spot, since he's actually giving us some information-whether he knows it or not.

"Ah please, da one between me and Race dat I couldn't stay wid a goil for mouh den two months. He won dat li'l," Spot began to say but then a firm grip clapped around his hand that rested on his cane.

I watched in shock as Terrier threw the cane to Charlie, who easily caught it, before she twisted Spot Conlon around into a headlock. The look on the newsie's face was stunned. "Now then, no more of this annoying talk," Terrier said in a dangerous voice, "Tell me exactly what happened."

I had forgotten that the first day I had met Terrier, she had taken a man down with only two blows, but it still shocked me that she was able to put Spot Conlon, _Spot Conlon_, the best fighter in all of New York, into a headlock. Granted, she attacked him completely out of the blue-if it was a boy, Spot probably would've seen it coming. But Terrier, being a girl and all, attacking him was just something he didn't see coming.

Not to mention it seemed that Spot Conlon rubbed Terrier the wrong way. Usually it took her a good ten minutes before she got mad at someone, but it only took Spot a total of two to do, which was indeed impressive.

"Wells," Spot said after a moment of thought, which I am sure was him deciding if he should just throw the girl that had him in a headlock into the river-he could certainly do such a thing-or just answer her question. "Ta months ago, Race and me made a bet dat I'se couldn't kiss a goil on the foist date dat I'd neva met befouh. Den afta dat, Race betted dat I couldn't stay wid a goil for more den ta months, liok I said."

"So, what made you two split?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"I tol 'er, didn't I'se? She's a real nice goil and I felt bad doin' dat ta 'er. Haven't seen 'er since," Spot replied before easily breaking from the headlock. He straightened his cabbie hat and said, "Now den, if you dames will be so kind as ta leave, I 'ave aftanoon sellin' ta do."

With that he walked past us in a kind of saunter, easily plucking his cane out of Charlie's grasp, before disappearing from the dock. We stood there for a moment, processing the information that the King of Brooklyn had just given us.

No wonder Abigail was so upset, I would be upset if I found out a boy went out with me just because he had made a bet with someone, regardless if I actually liked him or not. It also explained why Spot would want to go out with her. It all was clear.

"Well, that explains a lot doesn't it?" asked Terrier as we set off back down the dock.

Charlie nodded in agreement and said, "Poor Abigail."

"Agreed," Terrier sat, resting a comforting hand on Charlie's shoulder.

"Well, Terrier, remind me not to get on your bad side," I joked. Terrier scowled at me while Charlie giggled, and we all trotted back to Manhattan.

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A/N: Have I ever mentioned how much I love writing in Mimi's point of view? Well, I really, really do! Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter, I know I loved writing, and thanks for reading! Please leave a review telling me what you think!


	21. Bet on Copper

**Chapter Twenty One-** Bet on Copper

~Racetrack's Point of View

"He went out with her for two months, without even caring a bit for her," Terrier concluded as she leaned back in her chair as if to emphasis her words. It was late November, the last day that Sheepshead Racetrack would be open in the year 1899, and Johnny, being the friend with connections that he was, had managed to book a table on the terrace of the jockey club house so we could all enjoy the last day of races in style.

Terrier, Fiddle, Mimi, and Charlie had all come along for the day since Mimi was, after all, Johnny's girl, while the other three were just free loaders. Terrier was just concluding her dramatic rendition of her journey to Brooklyn to talk to the King himself, and it wasn't making me feel any better.

What can I say? I admit when I'm wrong-although, honestly it isn't often-and that Mush and Blink had been on to something when they said I may feel a tad bit guilty about how I used Abigail like that and even that I do like her. Well, only talking to her, nothing else. (Although neither of them believe me when I say this.)

"Well, I'm glad they both feel the same way about each other," Fiddle observed, bringing me out of my little reverie.

Everyone turned their attention to her and Mimi asked, "What?" since no one else was going to say anything.

"Oh well," Fiddle said, an embarrassed look coming over her face like she wasn't supposed to have said anything. She cleared her throat uncomfortably, "I talked to Abigail and she said she thought she didn't even like Spot."

"And you didn't say anything about it before?" asked Terrier, sounding like she was about to blow a gasket.

"Now, calm down zere, Terrier. Fiddle waz probably juzt doing what Abigail azk and keeping it a zecret, oui?" Mimi defended her friend before turning to face the long brown haired girl.

Fiddle nodded at this and before she could say anything, Johnny leapt up from his seat and shouted, "GO! GO!" I craned my neck around to see the next group of racehorses surging from the gate. I'm embarrassed to say that I was paying more attention to what the girls where saying then to the races, which, if anyone found out, would mean that I'd be called a 'gossiping girl' for the next month or so.

I swept my gaze over the field to see what the competition was, and if there were any horses to make last-minute bets on. "Who'd ya bet on, Johnny?" I asked my friend as we both hurried over to the terrace's railing to get a better look.

"Number Three, Commodore," Johnny said, pointing to a giant of a dark bay colt. "I've ridden his sire, good horse with more than enough endurance."

I nodded and was about to call to one of the roaming bet-takers to wage a dollar on the colt but then a flash of copper caught my eye and instead I shouted to the taker, "A dolla on Numba Eight!"

"Why? That's the only filly in the whole race!" exclaimed Johnny in surprise as he found the chestnut filly in the center of the pack as the horses charged down the backstretch.

I didn't offer a reply as I watched the filly blaze ahead of the pack, past Commodore, as they reached the third furlong, and down the stretch, sweeping the race by a whole twenty-one lengths.

Johnny stared at the horse in surprise before slowly turning to me and saying, "How did you know?"

I shrugged and said, "'Cause its Coppa Jinx." Before adding 'Abigail's horse' in my head.

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A/N: Just a short little chapter before the big exciting one next chapter! I hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading, as always! Please a leave a review because I want to hear what you have to say! (I'm selfish like that...)


	22. First Snow

**Chapter Twenty-Two-** First Snow

~Racetrack's Point of View

Today was the day, as Mush had reminded me many times that morning. Today was the day I was going to apologize to Abigail. It was well over due, as Blink kept saying. It was already the first week in December and the whole bet-truth coming out was nearly two weeks ago, and my eye-patched friend would probably never stop badgering me until I did something about it.

As I sold on the corner I usually sold on when it wasn't racing season, white specs, thicker than I'd ever seen before, began to float down towards the earth. The winter's first snow. I happily stuck out my hand and smiled as snowflakes glided into it before they melted. My Ma had always said there was magic in the winter's first snow and for the first time, I was pretty sure that my Ma had been on to something when she said that.

With a grin I raised one of my remaining papers and said, "Prime Minster of England Snubbed by French President!" It sounded like a good headline to me-so I stuck with the truth for once-and it seemed like many other people thought so too, because they paused in their hurrying to get home to hand me a penny for a newspaper.

"Thank ya, mista," I said, tipping my hat to a tall man in a stove pipe hat as he bought my last paper. He nodded in response before hurrying onward. I glanced up at the clock above Regency Bank to see it was a quarter to five, which meant I needed to get moving if I wanted to make it to Dee and Darby's clothes factory before five when all the workers got off.

I set off through the crowded streets, dashing across streets and generally causing near traffic collisions. I reached the factory as clocks all over the city began to gong out that it was five o'clock. It only took a matter of seconds for the factory workers begin to flood out of its doors. I scanned the crowd, but Abigail nor any of her friends had come out yet.

Finally, after the stream had thinned, I spotted the blonde hair of Johnny's girl along with Fiddle and a shorter version of Fiddle. Accompanying them was a brown haired nine-year-old that I recognized as Les' girl. Finally, amongst all of them, was the short, dark blonde-red haired head that I'd been waiting for.

I waited until they were within talking distance, and said, "'Ey, Abigail."

The other girls had noticed me standing there and had smiled and nodded to me, but now Abigail-who had pretended to not see me at all-turned to look at me. She pulled a smile onto her face and said, "Hi Race."

"Do ya mind if I tawk ta youse for a minute?" I asked.

She glanced at her friends, silently pleading them to stay with her, but the shorter Fiddle said, "We'll see you later, Abigail," and with that she herded the rest of them off down the street, waving to us as she went.

I took a deep breath and began, "Listen Abigail, I feel real bad abou doin' wha I did ta ya-" I was cut off by Abigail slapping me across the face. "I suppose I'se desoived dat," I mumbled before saying, "Anyway, what I'm trying ta say is-" I was cut off once again by a slap across the face. It didn't hurt, just was annoying.

"Oi, would ya stop doin' dat, I'm tryin ta apologize!" I exclaimed. She raised her hand once again, but before she could, I grabbed her shoulders and kissed her before she could. What can I say? It was just my natural reaction. Abigail first was stiff but then I felt her loosen. When we broke apart, I grinned at her. Seeming to be _her_ natural reaction to this, Abigail raised her hand to slap me but I caught her hand and said while putting a finger up, "I'se loinin'."

After a brief pause and I said with a grin, "So's, since I kissed ya, does dat mean you'll be me goil?"

She snorted and rolled her eyes and said in a joking tone, "How about a bet instead?"

"Nah fouh, na when I finally sorted out things," I said shaking my head and folding my arms across my chest. I was being honest about it too, I really finally had figured out somethings, and I knew that betting messed it all up. (But that's not to say I gave it up all together.)

She gave me a questioning look before saying, "And what did you sort out?"

"Tha I tink I'se liok ya," I replied truthfully, feeling my face beginning to heat.

She raised an eyebrow at me that I thought extremely adorable on her while she was smiling and said, "Then I think I'll be your girl, then, as long as you have things sorted out."

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A/N: Can someone else please tell me they saw that coming? Cause I saw it! :) But that isn't saying much since I'm the _author_ and all. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and thank you so much for reading! Leave a review, oui?


	23. A Mighty Fine Pair

**Chapter Twenty-Three- **A Mighty Fine Pair

~Mimi's Point of View

I stood on tip-toe atop a ladder, carefully winding the garland around another section of the balcony railing as I sang, "Noel, noel, noel, noel! God iz ze King of Izrael!"

"Noel, noel! Noel, noel!" added in Fiddle as she held my ladder still. I smiled down at her before accepting the golden bow she handed up to me and tying it onto the garland. Inspecting my work-and finding it perfect, as always-I nodded and clamored down the ladder.

"I zink zat iz it, Fiddle," I said as I observed our handiwork on the now decorated balcony railing. Terrier was in the booths along with Ben, changing the drapes to gold and white silks. Both were humming a Christmas tune horribly off-keyed but that didn't effect either of their curtain changing abilities.

Fiddle laughed merrily at her sister and our friend before bringing out her fiddle from where it was stashed in her sash and joining in their song, only playing on key. I rolled my eyes at them before making my way out into the lobby where Medda, Carl the Clown, and Charlie along with Les, who had been enlisted to help decorate after a puppy-dog look from Charlie.

Carl and Medda were having a contest for who could put up garland faster around the top railings and I swear that if speed-garland-putting-up was a sport, those two would be in the Olympics. Trying to keep from laughing at them, I trotted over to where Les stood, holding a ladder as Charlie hung mistletoe from the chandelier at the top of the grand staircase.

"'Oping to get the first kiss under that mistletoe?" I asked Les mischievously, glancing purposefully between Charlie and him.

He turned beet red and spluttered, "No! I was just being a gentleman and helping her!"

I raised an eyebrow at him and gave him a questioning look before shrugging and saying, "Alright, if you zay zo." Les opened his mouth to protest, but just then Charlie was clamoring down the ladder, and on her way she planted a kiss on his cheek. He turned to her with a bright smile and she giggled.

Feeling out of place all of a sudden, I continued down the grand staircase, admiring Medda and Carl's handiwork with the garland. The many doors were lined with wreaths that were tied off with pure white and shimmering golden ribbons. The Christmas trees that stood on either side of the staircase reached high towards the ceiling, both topped with golden angels and decorated in gold and silver tinsel.

"I love Chriztmaz," I said happily as I took in all our decorating. I felt a cold gust of wind hit me and I turned to see Johnny hurrying inside with dinner he had left to get a half an hour ago while Sarah held the door for him.

"I'm glad you were coming up right when I was," Johnny said as he stamped the snow off his boots.

Sarah did the same as she said, "No kidding." She turned to me and said apologetically, "Sorry I'm late, Jack-"

"Oh, no need to explain," I said giving her a knowing wink. She frowned at me but before she could say anything, Johnny came over and planted a kiss on my lips, leaning over the packages in his arms.

"Hello, my dove," he said.

I smiled back at him before grabbing some packages from him and booking it up the staircase, Johnny sprinting after me shouting something along the lines of being a gentlemen and it not being proper for a lady to carry packages-since when were all the boys concerned being gentlemen?-while Sarah mumbled something about the crazy people she had to deal with.

Twenty minutes later, we were all gathered up on the stage and digging into large helpings of pasta from Benvolio's, which even drew Ophie and Noelle out of their naps. "Pass the garlic bread, if you would, please," asked Medda to Charlie and she passed them over with a smile after plucking one from the basket for herself.

"Save room for some peppermint canes for desert!" Carl told us all.

Les laughed and said, "Can do!" which caused everyone else to burst into laughter too.

Sarah gasped in realization of something as we all calmed down, "I forgot!"

"Forgot what?" asked Terrier around a mouthful of noodles.

"The news!" she paused as to make sure everyone was listening before saying, "Abigail and Racetrack are going out!"

"WHAT?" we all shouted in unison, even Carl the Clown-who was acquainted with both Abigail and Race and found it as hard to believe that they were going out as the rest of us were.

Sarah nodded in confirmation as Fiddle asked, "Since when?"

"Since yesterday when he asked her-" Sarah began.

"After work!" I finished for her, remembering Race stopping her on our way home. She hadn't caught up with us afterward but none of us were too worried about it since Abigail could take care of herself-Terrier had been training in a few self defense moves in the past few weeks. "'Ow could zhe not tell uz?"

Everyone shrugged, all mystified, before Ben pointed out, "Well it's been _one day_. We've been here all day and she's been finishing our chores for us and probably with Race."

"Zhe could've told uz zough," I grumped. Johnny patted my shoulder comfortingly but I know he was trying really hard not to laugh from the look on his face. I slightly stuck my tongue out at him and all that made him do was look like her was really,_ really_ trying hard not to laugh.

"I can't believe they can stand each other, quite honestly," Medda observed, not paying the slightest attention to Johnny nor me.

"Well think about," Fiddle said, "Abigail is usually a very practical person-although slightly dramatic at times-and sometimes she's a bit of a spoil sport, while Race is fun and friendly. When she's with him, she's like that too, which makes her not all up-tight. I think it's good for her."

"And him," Les nodded, before saying, "Race is usually real irresponsible, but Mush says that, because of Abigail, he's beginning to become less that way." We all blinked at him in surprise, that such a little kid could say something so in-depth.

Charlie, who was the least surprised of all us that Les would say this, just slipped her hand into his and continued to munch her garlic bread. Medda nodded and said, "On second thought, I agree. They do make a mighty fine pair, don't they?"

"Well, what should we do about it?" asked Terrier after moment's pause.

"Do about it?" I repeated a little mystified.

She rolled her eyes as if it was the most obvious thing in the whole entire world before saying, "During the Christmas party, we have to make absolutely sure that they're together for it so they can kiss under the mistletoe at midnight."

I wasn't sure how I was supposed to derive that from just the words 'what are we going to do about it' but, Charlie, who had picked up quick enough on what Terrier was saying, said, "Yeah! Because if you kiss the one you love under a mistletoe at midnight on Christmas Eve, then you're sure to be together for the rest of your lives!"

Her and Les glanced at each other before hurriedly looking away in embarrassment, while I leaned closer to Johnny. Medda laughed at all of us before turning to Carl with a smile and saying, "We're going to need more mistletoe."

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A/N: Ah! Almost done! One chapter left! (I think I might cry!) Thanks for reading this chapter and I hope you enjoyed! Leave a review, s'il vous plait! (Merci, mes beaus amies.)


	24. Mistletoe

**Chapter Twenty-Four-** Mistletoe

~Racetrack's Point of View

I'm not usually one for being soft, but after Abigail said she would be my girl, the month of December flew by in a happy blur. We soon settled into a routine of sorts; I'd join Abigail and her friends at the factory for lunch- sometimes accompanied Blink, Mush, Crutchy, or some of the other boys-or the girls would meet us at Tibby's. At five, I'd meet Abigail and then, if I still had papers left, we'd finish selling them together, and if I didn't, we'd wonder around New York together, doing nothing at all other than just enjoying being together.

If we had enough time to change into warmer clothes, we'd go to Central Park and join some of the other newsies or Abigail's friends in a monstrous snowball war that was a continuation from day to day. We always made sure to be on Terrier's team if she was there that day since she once hit someone with a snowball so hard, it bruised the left side of their face-of course after that she had to flee due to a vengeful rich boy chasing after her. Sometimes the bulls would even join in our fun, but only if their shift captain wasn't on patrol in the park that day.

Once, when I got hit when chucking snowballs and not taking cover after each throw, I got hit dead center in the chest by one. Dramatically, I fell back into the soft snow, with Abigail rushing to my side and as I 'died' she pretended to swear vengeance on whoever did this. When I finally 'passed away' she kissed me before running back to the front line and pelting all those stupid enough to peek up on the other team's side.

When December twenty-fourth finally rolled around, it found me, in my best black, freshly pressed trousers, black waistcoat, white long-sleeved button up shirt, along with my usual black cabbie hat, accompanied by Abigail, dressed a silver-pale blue gown made of heavy velvet with a white sash under a white, torso-length poncho trimmed with fur of the color on the edges and on the hood. Her hands were snug in mittens that fit perfectly into my own, gloved hand.

We trudged through the falling snow together, enjoying each other's company but not disturbing the peacefulness of the night by talking. When we finally reached Irving Hall, we were greeted by a throng newsies and their dates, all crowding into the lobby of the lavishly decorated building, which Abigail and I had even had a small hand in helping with.

"Looks like everyone and their mother turned out," Abigail observed jokingly with a small smile.

"I'se don't see anyone olda den thirty," I said, glancing around, playing along with her joke. She giggled at me before we entered the crowd and were swept up in the flow of newsies. We soon found ourselves in the theatre, which had been ridden of any chairs and lined with tables for food and sitting as people began to lead their dates onto the dance floor.

Abigail smiled at everything as we went, since the theatre looked truly spectacular with all the decorations up, and we made our way to the stage to were Fiddle stood, leading her usual assemble in another song, along with Mush, who had proven to be a natural at the piano.

"Hello, you two!" greeted Fiddle as she paused briefly in her playing, since the song was coming to a close, to smile at us. Mush waved hello across the stage before hurriedly flipping the music on his piano and starting on the next song. "Mimi was looking for you two," she told us before bringing her bow to her fiddle's strings and starting on a slow dance.

"Shall we?" I asked, offering my arm to Abigail. She looked like she was considering saying 'no' since we needed to find our French friend-whom I had finally met after a particularly snowy battle at Central Park.

But instead she said, "She'll find us later," and with that we made our way through the crowd to the center of dance floor. We turned to face each other and I place my hand around her waist as she placed her hand on my shoulder and we took up each other's hands.

We danced like that, smiling, talking, and laughing with each other as the night wore on. When the clocks somewhere in the city struck twelve, everyone stopped and shouted, "Merry Christmas!" and with that, I swept my beautiful girl into my arms and kissed her.

It was only when I set her down on her feet did she point up with a grin. I glanced up and said in wonder, "Mistletoe." Indeed, above us, far up on one of the theatre's chandeliers was mistletoe.

"You didn't know that was there, did you?" Abigail asked with an amused look on her face. I shook my head a little sheepishly, but she just smiled in response and said, "Good, that gives me an excuse to do this." Then she wrapped her arms around my neck and planted a kiss on me.

"Ya know ya don't need an excuse ta do dat," I told her with a grin after. She shrugged and gave me a smile.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a Terrier and Fiddle high-five each other and shout, "Mission accomplished!" while Blink tapped his root beer glass with Mush before they both drank deeply with triumphant looks on their faces. Spot, who was probably only there on the request of Medda, sat surrounded by the usual poker gang, raised his glass in toast to me before turning back to his game. Union, who sat with his leader, gave us the slightest of winks before he, too, returned to the poker game.

Not far away Mimi leaned against Johnny, he had an arm around her, and both smiled happily. On Mimi's finger was a gold band with a modest white diamond. Sarah and Jack danced past us, both of them giving us knowing looks, before continuing on in their waltz. And Ben stood next to a Medda, who gazed at us fondly, while he looked a slight shade of green.

I smiled at all our friends before turning back to my own girl, who had seen all this too, and she joked, "Well, I think we have the parents' approval."

"Wouldn't matter if they did cause it wouldn't stop me," I told her with a confident smile. She giggled at the look on my face before lightly kissing me and then we both started in on the waltz, before we could get plowed over by more couples.

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A/N: Ah! The end! Possible sequel coming soon? (Maybe...) Anyway, thank you for reading this chapter and the whole story, through the ups and downs of all the characters! I hope you enjoyed it and it was-hopefully-like no other story you have yet to read. (But, hey, it has _Mimi_ and _Fiddle_ in it so _has_ to be different, right?) Any last thoughts or anything else? Then leave a review, please! (I said I wasn't going to cry, but I think might...) Thank you all again!-royalmagician


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